It Remains to be Seen
by Abizeau
Summary: Canada, Avonlea, 1896. Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe both go through feelings and emotions every teenager does. Each one will live through their first years together very differently. [Anne's and Gilbert's POV alternating each chapter]
1. 1 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 1 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Avonlea, May 1896._**

Anne Shirley had arrived at Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert's home only a couple of weeks ago. After some misunderstandings and one or two adventures on the way – including a disastrous Sunday picnic – the old brother and sister had decided to keep Anne. With an e, if you please.

But now it was time to start school.

"Oh, Marilla," Anne exulted. "I've always wanted to go to school!" Her grin was as large as her imagination could be. "Tomorrow will be the best day of my life!"

"Calm down, Anne," Marilla said, her eternal frown on her wrinkled brow. "It's only school."

That evening, Anne could not eat.

"What is food in light of the best day of your existence?" Anne said at supper when Marilla told her to eat. At the end of the table, Matthew Cuthbert suppressed a smile. This little girl was already filling all of his lonely heart.

"Then go on to bed," Marilla said. Anne jumped to her feet and ran to the staircase. But before she could be too far, Marilla said, "And don't forget to say your prayers, Anne!"

"I will!" Anne called back. As soon as she was in her room, she closed the door and took off her dress. Instead of slipping in her nightgown, she draped herself with her quilt and looked at the full moon outside, in between the cherry blossoms of the tree just outside her window.

"Oh, beautiful Snow Queen," she said to the tree. "You look so divine in your lacy gown. Princess Cordelia is going to school tomorrow! Can you imagine?" She sighed content and looked at the silver moon in the sky. She smiled. "If only I was a star," she said softly. "I could see the whole world from there. I could see the silver lightings of the moon over the trees swaying in the breeze." She stayed kneeling at her window for a moment, for the first time in days completely speechless at the beauty of her surroundings.

"Anne?" Marilla's shrill voice sounded from downstairs. "Go to bed."

Anne scrambled to her feet, took off the quilt from her back, slipped on her nightgown and kneeled at the side of her bed. She linked her hands together, and looked upwards, beyond the ceiling and roof of Green Gables.

"Gracious Heavenly Father," she started, just like the minister said during service last Sunday. It sounded so romantical. "Bless Marilla and Matthew, and bless Green Gables. Thank you for letting me stay here. As always, the list of things I want would be too long to enumerate right now, so I'm just going to name the first two: please, make me beautiful when I grow up; and please, may school be as wonderful as I imagine it." She paused. "Amen."

That said, she slipped under the covers and closed her eyes. It took her hours to fall asleep though. Her mind was imagining way too many scenarios at how perfect her first day of real school would be. The moon had traveled more than half of her journey across the why when Anne finally fell asleep, a peaceful smile on her lips.

Even with only a few hours of sleep, Anne woke up completely restored and ready to start her day. She put on her best dress – even if it was dull and brown and without puff sleeves – and braided her red hair in two identical braids. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled, satisfied. Except for the red hair and her freckles, but she would have to contend with those. For how long, though, was a mystery.

She slipped down the stairs, a wide smile on her face.

"Do be careful, Anne," Marilla said. "You wouldn't want to fall in the stairs on the first day of school, now would you?"

Anne sobered up quickly and walked carefully to the breakfast table where scrambled eggs, hot tea, and toast with butter were waiting for her.

"Do you think Diana is going to be there?" Anne asked, her mouth full of eggs.

"Do not speak with your mouth full, Anne," Marilla admonished. "But yes, I believe Diana will be there."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Anne said, forgetting her breakfast.

Marilla stopped trying to make Anne eat. In just two weeks, she had learned not to push her in a state of ecstasy.

"Off you go, now, Anne," Marilla said. "Don't forget your hat, and do not tarry on the way to school. You don't want to arrive late."

"Of course, not!" Anne quickly finished her milk, put the hat on her head and ran out of the house. In her hurry to go to school, she had forgotten to kiss Matthew and Marilla goodbye.

She slipped along the way, her red braid dancing in a frenzy around her face, a bright smile in her lips, and chatting with the trees blossoming with white flowers. Of course, she _had_ to walk through the White Way of Delight, and she couldn't be any happier than at that moment.

Then, the schoolhouse came into view and she stopped. There were children playing outside in the fresh morning, girls in their pink or blue dresses with matching bows, and boys in grey or brown suits tossing baseballs at each other. Anne grinned. She knew in that instant that she would make some amazing friends that day. She took a deep breath without being able to stop grinning and took a step forward. And a second. And another one.

Until she was walking in the midst of the children who had stopped talking and playing. They were staring at her, murmuring amongst each other. Words like "ugly", "redhead", "orphan", and "trash" slowly came to her ears. But no. This couldn't be right. She ignored it and turned around, looking if Diana was among those people.

Her breathing raced, and she started to hear things as if her head was underwater.

"Anne!"

Anne had trouble pinpointing where that word came from.

"Anne!" Someone said again, shaking Anne from her muffled thoughts. Diana was walking up the path to the school. Thank goodness Marilla had taken her to the Sunday picnic the previous week and she had been able to make at least one friend.

"Diana! Oh what a blessed sight," she said just as Diana came up to her. She looked her arm in the redhead's and they walked inside the schoolhouse.

"Come with me," Diana said, pulling Anne to the third desk from the front. "Put your books here, and I'll explain everything you need to know about school." Anne obeyed and did as Diana said. She left her hat and cardigan with the others near the door; Diana told her about lunch, the depot room, and the smaller kids' classroom. Then they went back inside, and everyone was already there, talking loudly to one another. When they saw Anne and Diana, it turned out into a loud murmur, secrets she was meant to hear. The same words as before came to her ears.

She sat down, silent, next to Diana just as the teacher, Mr. Philipps, walked in.

"Everyone at your seats!" He ordered, and all the children, younger and older, scrambled to their seats and sat in silence. Mr. Philipps looked over his class and his eyes stopped on Anne.

"You, the new girl. Stand up," he ordered again.

Slowly, Anne stood.

"Name?"

"Anne Shirley."

He frowned. "Oh, you're the orphan the old grumps took in. Right."

Hearing those nasty words, Anne became red to the face. But before Anne could say anything, Diana pulled her down on her seat.

"Don't take the bait," she whispered. "He loves to bully new students."

Anne tried to calm down, but she knew she would have two words with him after class.

"Open your readers page thirty-six," Mr. Philipps said. "Moody, begin reading."

An overweight brown-headed boy stood at the back of the class, cleared his throat, and started reading. He was stumbling on every two words, making Anne and half the class cringe.

"That's enough, Moody," Mr. Philipps said sternly. "He looked around the classroom.

"Prissy Andrews," he said with a smile on his lips.

Anne noticed the change of tone and turned around to see who was standing up to read. A pretty girl with long blond curls in the back of the class stood. But her looks didn't quite go in pair with her reading skills. Anne chuckled softly, and Diana elbowed her discreetly.

"Shush. I'll explain later."

This had, of course, annoyed the teacher immensely. Who dared talk during Perfect Prissy's reading?

"Anne Shirley," he said. "Continue reading."

Anne, more than happy to oblige, stood and read the sonnet with such passion and tone in her voice that the whole class giggled, leaving Mr. Philipps with a chaotic bunch of kids.

"Sit down at once!" He yelled through the classroom, making everyone obey quickly. He had a rod in his hands and was looking over the students to see which one he would punish first. No one moved.

After a whole minute of silence, he resumed his class with geometry, since reading had been such a disaster.

"Take out your slates," he ordered and proceeded to dictate a geometry problem for the students to write down. Once it was done, he went to his desk, opened his book, and started reading, ignoring the children.

"I abhor geometry," Anne whispered to Diana.

But Diana ignored her, not wanting to be punished in front of the whole class for talking during geometry.

Anne tried to focus on the problem. But geometry was so limited for the scope of the imagination.

Suddenly, she received a little ball of paper on her head, bouncing on her slate. She ignored it. Three times a little ball of paper landed on her or her table. She closed her eyes and breathed out.

"Hey, Carrots. Carrots!" Someone hissed at her.

That was too much. Rage was boiling inside her. But before she could reply anything, someone pulled at her braid, calling her carrots again. Without thinking, she stood and smashed her slate on the boy's head, with a deafening crack. The slate, not his skull. "Anne Shirley!" Mr. Philipps said, standing up.

Anne looked up at the boy on whose head she had slammed her slate, but he was grinning.

"Come up here at once," the teacher said. He wrote on the blackboard, enunciating each word as he wrote it:

_Ann Shirley has a very bad temper._

"You will write this one hundred times before leaving today," he said, red to the face. He didn't like disruptive students in his class. "And you will stay standing in front of the class until lunch break." He looked over the class to see if anyone would be bold enough to say anything. No one piped a word. He continued on with his lesson.

When he had his back turned, Anne added an 'e' at the end of her name on the blackboard. Unbeknownst to her, the boy who had called her 'carrots' was grinning like an idiot. He would never forget to put an 'e' to Anne's name, now.

Anne spent the last hour of the morning class standing in front of everyone, seeing their disgusted glances toward her. She didn't hear them, but she could imagine what they were saying.

_Trash. Orphan. Carrots. Ugly._

Anne pushed away these words from her mind and stared at a spot at the back of the classroom until Mr. Philipps rang the bell and dismissed the students for lunch.

Anne ran outside, without forgetting to take her hat and basket and quickly found a spot away from the others, hidden behind a bush. A smile patch if wild white flowers lay at her feet, and she smiled softly at the sight, a tear streaming silently down her cheek. She didn't even notice it until it splattered on the white petals. She angrily wiped it away and took out her sandwich Marilla had made for her. She tried to take a bite, but she was way too humiliated to eat anything substantial. She only drank some milk she had taken with her.

"You okay?" someone asked, coming over.

Anne looked up. It was neither Diana, not that boy who had insulted her. It was someone else entirely. She hadn't even noticed him in class. She shrugged, as a reply.

"Yeah, I know how you feel. People usually make fun of me." He paused when Anne didn't offer anything. "I'm Cole Mackenzie, by the way."

"Anne," she simply replied. Somehow, this boy seemed nice enough. Or at least not an idiot like the other one.

"Spelled with an 'e'," Cole said, a lopsided smile illuminating his face. But Anne didn't see anything negative in that smile.

She nodded.

"Don't mind Gilbert," Cole said. "I don't know what got into him. He's not like this, usually." He paused to think, frowning. "I've never seen him searching for attention from any girl, before." He chuckled. "He's barely come back from the city with his father."

Anne looked up. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Right," Cole said. "Sorry." He took out a notebook from his bag. "Do you mind if I draw?" He asked her.

"No, not at all," Anne replied. She observed him sharpening his pencil and starting to draw some strokes on the blank pages of his book. She could have watched him for hours, seeing the landscape brought to life under his hand. She completely forgot to eat until the bell rang again, calling the students back to class.

That afternoon was the worst Anne had ever lived through. Mr. Philipps totally ignored her, and the others continued to murmur nasty words in her direction. Even Diana didn't really pay attention to her. She was too engrossed in her calculus exercises.

So, since no one paid her any attention to her, she might as well copy that line one hundred times during class, so she wouldn't need to stay a minute longer in that classroom afterward.

As soon as the bell rang again, she gathered her things, put the page with the hundred lines on it on Mr. Philipps' desk, and ran outside without a glance backward for anything. She was never setting foot in that school again. Once she was on the path home and not in view of the school anymore, she slowed her pace and let her tears flow freely on her cheeks.

"Anne!" someone called behind her, down the path. She knew that voice. The same who had called her 'carrots' earlier. How dare he? She didn't even turn around.

"Anne, wait!"

But Anne ran faster, praying to whoever was up there to make her legs strong until she was home again.

* * *

_**Hi everyone, welcome to my little 'Anne with an E' fanfic, don't mind my Shirbert shenanigans... lol. But I hope you enjoy them, too! Shirbert has my heart, and I hope you'll enjoy these chapters. Every other chapter will either be Anne or Gilbert. ;)**_

_**If you want to review, I'd really appreciate it a lot, but if you just want to read, that's fine with me, too. **(But I love reading my reader's thoughts ;))_


	2. 2 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 2 - Gilbert Blythe**

**_Canada, Avonlea, May 1896. Same day._**

After spending months in the city with his father for medical treatment, Gilbert Blythe had finally come home. Out of all the people in his family, only he and his father had survived scarlet fever. Now, his father was sick again, and the fever had weakened him. For whatever reason Gilbert couldn't quite put his finger on, God had spared him during the epidemic. Now, he was taking care of his father while balancing school life with house chores. There were many things to do in a home, he found out. What his mother and sister did was a lot of work, and he had realized it too late to thank them for what they had done. Now he was on his own to take care of everything. With the help of Mrs. Brandon who came three times a week.

He had only been in school for a week when this new girl had come in. Finally someone new in Avonlea. After growing up there, he knew everyone, and he needed some change of scenery.

And this girl with her fiery red braids had caught his attention. She had the most beautiful green eyes, the cutest pointy freckled nose, and the brightest smile he had ever seen on any girl before. But Gilbert had never sought the attention of girls before, so he didn't know what to do to have her look at him. He could only think of what he had seen the others do.

Call her names and pull her hair. Usually, the girls loved the attention.

Not this one.

The crack of the slat on his head had made him learn the hard way that she was not like the other girls. But at least she was looking at him now. He couldn't think of anything else to do but grin at her when her green eyes had met his.

Unfortunately, he had made things worse for her first day of school.

Gilbert felt bad for the rest of the day. He stole glances her way when she stood in front of the class. And despite her being in that situation, he found her very cute. He didn't care where she was from or whether she was an orphan or not. _A cute girl is a cute girl, wherever she comes from_, his father would say.

During lunch, he saw her running away to hide. Only Cole Mackenzie followed after her. Of course, he would. He was lucky there had been Anne to take the bullying instead of him. So of course, they would stick together. Outcasts always do.

Guilt gnawed at his insides during lunch. He could hear the others whispering about her among themselves.

"Hey Gilbert," Billy Andrews said, slapping him hard on the shoulder. "Nicely done on the 'carrots' part!" He sniggered. "Having her up there like a scarecrow was hilarious. You deserve an Honorary reward!"

The boys around them laughed.

"Trash doesn't belong in the school," another said.

"Or in Avonlea," a third pointed out.

"Shut up!" Gilbert said for everyone to hear. "She doesn't deserve this on her first day of school."

"Well, you started it, Gilbert," Billy said. "And I'm going to finish this. Cole hasn't had a good scrubbing, this morning, either."

He made to leave, but Gilbert held him back, followed by Moody and Charlie. Gilbert, who wasn't the brawling type, tackled him to the ground, sat on his chest and punched Billy in the nose once, freezing everyone into place. Even he surprised himself. What was wrong with him today?

He let go of Billy, scrambled to his feet and ran some distance away to catch his breath and take some time alone to think.

One, he needed to apologize to Anne. Two, he needed to stop being a jerk to people. Three... No. There was no three. Billy deserved that.

"Anne with an 'e'," he recited. "I'm sorry I called you carrots." He paused. "No, that's not good. "Anne, please forgive me? No." He paced the woods next to the school. "Anne, I'm sorry I called you names." He huffed and pulled at his hair. Nothing he would say would erase what he had said and done. He would never be able to make up for it. He paced some more, until he heard the bell again, indicating the end of the break. He headed back to school, ignoring everyone and sat at his desk.

During the whole afternoon, he couldn't resist stealing glances at the redhead girl sitting across the school isle from him. Her profile was sweet and cute and he wished he could have made a better first impression. He sighed and followed the lesson, not wanting to bring attention to him or Anne, anymore.

Time went by so slowly as if everything was caked in jelly. He barely heard the teacher talking, and thank goodness he didn't interrogate him on anything. He would have been totally unable to answer anything.

After checking the clock over the blackboard every three minutes, the hours finally passed and Mr. Philipps rang the bell.

"Don't forget your essay for tomorrow on the Shakespeare sonnet we read this morning," he reminded everyone. At soon as he had finished talking, there was a gust of wind and Anne was out the door before anyone could say "orphan". People around the classroom giggled and started talking again.

"Hi, Gilbert," a sweet light brown-haired girl said, coming up to Gilbert. He recognized her as being Ruby Gillis. "It's nice seeing you again," she said softly.

"Yeah, you too," Gilbert replied, his thoughts distracted by the redhead who had run away. "Sorry I have to go." He grabbed his books and his hat and walked outside. The farther he was from everyone, the better.

He looked right and left, wondering which direction Anne had taken to go home. Then he remembered Mr. Philipps talking about the Cuthberts and he knew where to go. He accelerated his steps, hoping he would catch up with Anne. When he saw her further down the road, at some point, something funny happened in his stomach.

"Anne!" He called out. At least he hadn't called her 'carrots', this time. _Idiot_.

She didn't even stop but started running.

"Anne! Wait!" He called out again.

She didn't.

Gilbert stopped in his tracks and watched her run away. He mentally kicked himself and wished he could start this day over. He would have to make it up to her, the next day. He turned around and started home, keeping away from paths to avoid seeing and talking with anyone. It took him longer to get home, and his father asked him where he had been.

"I don't want to talk about it," Gilbert replied. "I'm gonna go chop some wood to get dinner ready. Do you need anything before I go?"

His father smiled at his son from his bed. "Just a glass of water, please, son," he replied, and Gilbert obliged. Once that was done, he put on some clothes he used only for chores, slipped on some working gloves and went behind the house to chop some wood.

He ended up chopping way more wood than he needed and had to haul it back into the house, going back and forth seven times. When he was done, he was exhausted. He could have dropped in bed and slept until morning. But he couldn't

He put three logs in the stove and put some water to boil. He threw in some carrots – which made him think of Anne and reminded him what an idiot he was – some cabbage, potatoes, and waited for it to cook. He followed his mother's recipe book as best he could, but it never turned out how she used to cook. It was either too salty, too bland, undercooked or overcooked

While everything took its time to boil, he took out his sonnet and started writing the essay Mr. Philipps had asked of them. He almost forgot about the meal and quickly scrambled up to his feet. He mashed the cooked vegetables and stirred for a moment. He then poured some in two bowls, cut some stale bread, and went to his father's room with a tray. He gave him a bowl and took one for himself. John Blythe never complained of his son's cooking.

"What's on your mind, son?" he asked after a few spoonfuls of bland soup.

Gilbert shrugged. "I'm just a jerk, that's all." He dipped the bread in the soup so make it edible.

"What happened in school?"

Gilbert didn't answer right away, thinking about how he could possibly say this to his father. Surely, he wouldn't be proud of him. "This new girl came to school, today," he started. "She's an orphan, and the Cuthberts took her in."

At the mention of that name, John Blythe's eyes perked up. "Marilla and Matthew took in an orphan?"

"Yes."

"Huh, interesting. And what's the problem?"

"She's not like the other girls," he started. "Everyone says she's an ugly orphan and trash, but I don't see it that way, you know?" He paused as his father nodded. "She has the most amazing green eyes and her hair is red as..." He trailed off, almost saying 'carrots'. "As fire. The freckles on her face are like the stars in the sky."

"So, she's pretty," John offered.

"In her own way, yeah." Gilbert sighed. "But I just wanted her to notice me and I called her carrots and I made everything worse for her. And then Billy Andrews was going to bully her and Cole at lunch so I punched him." He stopped, taking a breath.

John Blythe smiled. "Always defending the innocent." He paused, coughing. "But you're right. You shouldn't have called her 'carrots'."

"No. And now she won't talk to me!" he said.

"Did you try?"

"Yes. I called after her. I used her real name." He paused. "But she just ran away."

John Blythe coughed some more, and Gilbert gave him some water to drink. "You okay?" he asked, before mentally kicking himself. Of course, his father was not okay.

"Yeah," John said, nonetheless. "Maybe try _talking_ to her, not _yelling_ at her." He cracked a smile at his teenage son.

Gilbert chuckled even though he felt awful. He needed to fix things, and he would. He was a gentleman. Not a jerk like all the other boys. Though he had acted like one.

After finishing his chores and cleaning up the kitchen, he made sure his father had everything he needed and went to bed. He lay there, unable to close his eyes, let alone fall asleep. He couldn't stop thinking about the new girl who had come to school that day. If only he could find a way to make things right with her. Start over. Show that he wasn't the jerk she thought he was.

After tossing and turning for a couple of hours, he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke up with a start and checked the time on the clock. Good. He wasn't late yet. He quickly prepared breakfast, served it to his father, telling him that Mrs. Brandon would be coming soon to look after him and the house and that he needed to head quickly to school. He kissed his father's brow and hurried out of the house, his bag strung over his shoulder, and took the long way to school, walking through a field of wildflowers. He picked the prettiest ones and made a bouquet. It wasn't the best, but it was something, right?

He continued his way to school and waited for Anne with an 'e' to come. He waited until Mr. Philipps rang the bell, but she didn't show up.

"Who are those for?" a girl asked him once he was sitting in class, the flowers laying on his desk.

Gilbert looked up and saw Ruby Gillis looking at him expectantly. He shrugged. If Anne was coming late, he would give them to her. If not… Might as well give them to someone, so they wouldn't go to waste.

"Alright class," Mr. Philipps said looking over at everyone. "Miss Carrots with an 'e' isn't here today?" he asked, and everyone – but Gilbert – sniggered. "I wonder why." He took out his book. "Take out your essays. Miss Andrews, gather the papers and bring them to my desk if you please."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Couldn't he be less obvious about his crush for Prissy Andrews? It was disgusting.

The day went on without any sign of Anne. He kept looking over his shoulder at the door, in case he could catch of glimpse of her before the others, but she never came. Before leaving school, though, he put the flowers on Ruby's desk. He walked away without a glance towards her or anyone else. He walked home looking at his feet, taking a shortcut through the woods.

Until he heard something that was not birds chirping in the trees. Or frogs croaking in the stream. Or crickets hissing in the grass. He could have recognized that voice anywhere. He followed the sounds and hid behind a tree. Anne was right there, conversing with the trees and the flowers, reading out loud for the animals and plants of the forest.

He stayed hidden behind the tree and simply watched her. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. He wouldn't even had been able to erase the smile from his face, anyway. She moved among the trees and he moved, too, so she would always be in his field of vision.

But he stepped on a branch and it cracked under his weight, making Anne freeze in her speech and her steps. Their gazes met for a couple of seconds. Gilbert felt too guilty at the moment to say anything, and Anne taking advantage of that, gathered her things as quickly as possible, and ran away towards Green Gables.

At that moment, Gilbert knew that he had messed up.

Again.

* * *

_**Hi, again! thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed Gilbert's POV! if you did, please let me know ;)**_

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	3. 3 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 3 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, the woods. May 1896_**

For three days straight, Anne pretended to go to school. She woke up with a bright smile every morning, ate her breakfast with Matthew and Marilla, kissed them goodbye and skipped outside the house, humming a tune. She hadn't told Marilla about the first-day debacle in school. She lied straight to her face and told her it had been a perfect day.  
Because there was no way she was setting foot back to school any time soon, that was for sure. But if she told Marilla about it, she would make her go, no matter what. And she did not want to risk being sent away because she was making a fuss about it.

So, she decided to pretend. Because she was good at pretending. All her life she had lived with places and people in her mind, pretending she was someone else or doing something else. It had saved her life, to be honest. And this time it would save her from school.  
She walked in the direction of the school, in case Marilla was watching from the kitchen window. But as soon as she was out of sight, she turned into the woods, to her secret place.

Well, not so secret, it turned out. That wicked boy had seen her there, reading to the trees. He must really think her a crazy girl, now. But who cared, right? She wasn't going to school anyway.

When she got there on the third morning of skipping school, she noticed something was amiss. She had built a crude cabin out of branches and twigs. It was still standing. But on the log where she used to sit, there was a book. Though she was sure she hadn't left any book, there, the previous day. She quickly checked her basket. No, her own book was still there.

She looked around her to see if anyone was playing a trick on her. Nothing. She listened closely, but she could only hear birds in the trees, frogs in the creek, and the light breeze in the leaves. No snapping twigs, or giggles anywhere. She relaxed a bit and took the book into her hands.

She opened the first page, and there, pressed between the cover and the page, as pink as baby cheeks, was the most beautiful cherry blossom she had ever seen. She took it out of the pages and a small paper fell out and landed at her feet. She picked it up and opened the folded paper.

_I'm sorry I called you 'carrots', Anne with an E._

_This is the book we're reading in school, so you don't get left behind._

_Please come back. G.B_.

A smile spread on Anne's lips. But before it could be too large, she suppressed it. Who was he to think he could be forgiven with a book and a cherry blossom?

She paused.

Well, it was a start. A nice start.

But she was not going back there. Everyone was going to make fun of her, anyway. She hadn't suddenly turned into a beautiful girl with raven black hair, or with parents. She was still an ugly, redhead orphan. That much was true.

She sat on the log and opened the book. She noticed a bookmark at a page in the middle of the book. There was another note tucked into the pages.

_I mean it. Please come back. By the way, this is where we left off in the book._

Anne didn't know if she needed to be angry with him, or happy about it. She didn't even know his name. _G.B._ It could be anything. She only knew her first name was Gilbert. That much she remembered.

She tucked his notes away with the cherry blossom and started reading the book. Sonnet after sonnet after poem, she had finished the book at noon. She was reading the last poem of the book when she heard steps coming her way. Twigs cracked closer and closer, but she didn't move.

She saw _him_ coming over, his hat low on his head, and his leather bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn't even trying to be silent, and he was looking straight at her.

"Hi!" he called out. "Mind if I join you?"

Anne shrugged, keeping a skeptical eye on him.

"I see you got my book," he said. "Did you read today's poem?"

"I finished the book," she replied.

"What? Really?" He looked shocked.

"Why? You thought I couldn't read, in addition to being an orphan with carrot hair?" Anne felt strong at the moment. There was no one around. She could probably take him down.

"What? No. Of course not." He found a fallen log a few meters away and brought it to the one Anne had been using. He checked it was stable and sat on it. He took out his sandwich and started eating.

Anne sat on her log. "What are you doing here?" She asked. "And what even is your name? G. B.?"

He finished his mouthful, swallowed, and laughed. "I'm Gilbert Blythe." He offered her hand for her to shake, which she did, a little reluctantly. "And I'm here because the others are annoying." He continued eating his sandwich as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with the situation they were in.

Anne took out her own lunch and started eating, too. Both ate in silence, which was quite a challenge for Anne since talking was like breathing to her.

As soon as he had finished his own lunch, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, he stood. "I better get back. Or I'm going to be late for school." He paused. "You sure don't want to come?"

Anne didn't reply right away. "No. Thank you, though."

The boy – Gilbert – shrugged and started walking away. "See you some other time, then."

Anne nodded and watched him go. At some point, he looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. Anne quickly looked away. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to hate him. He had called her carrots!

"I solemnly swear to dislike him as long as the sun and moon shall endure," she said with a hand on her heart.

Oddly enough, and that surprised her first, she didn't use the word 'hate' in her oath. Only dislike. But the oath was taken, there was no taking it back whatsoever. She finished her milk and went back to the book Gilbert had given her. She reread the day's sonnet and tried to memorize it. It wasn't that hard. And once that was done, she just lay in the leaves, staring at the canopy.

She couldn't erase the boy's face from her mind. His chocolate brown eyes, his tiny freckles that were oh so much less obnoxious than hers, his half-smile, his brown curls under his hat-

Anne sat up with a start. What was wrong his her? She had just taken an oath to dislike the boy, and here she was, enumerating his face in the most romantical manner.

"Shake it off, Anne," she scolded herself. "You've got other things to think about right now. Much more important things."

But she couldn't find anything else to think about. She recited the sonnet.

Unfortunately, it was a romantic poem, so that didn't help. She paced among the trees, reciting their names, the flowers' names – she had found a book on botany, once, and had read it since there wasn't anything else to read at the time – and then tried spelling the names

out loud.

"Oak. O-A-K."

"Fern. F-E-R-N."

"Dandelion. D-A-N-D-E-L-I-O-N."

But it was no use. The same face and smile kept coming back to her mind. She picked up her things and took the long way back to Green Gables.

"Hello, Marilla! I'm home! Today was a great day at school. We read this most romantical poem and Mr. Philipps said-" she stopped. "What?" she asked Marilla who was staring at her with an ominous frown.

"Diana Barry and Ruby Gillis stopped by not fifteen minutes ago to ask if you were okay," she said slowly, trying to keep her anger in check.

"Oh."

"I asked them when was the last time they saw you, and they said it was Monday afternoon." She paused and clenched her fists at her sides. "Anne Shirley, where have you been going this whole week?"

Anne noticed Marilla's tone of voice was becoming more and more menacing. She held her apron tightly so her hands wouldn't shake.

"In the woods," she replied, her chin high. "But Marilla, you have no idea how much one can learn from being in the woods! So many words and science and so much scope for the imagination!"

"You lied to us, Anne, straight to our faces!" This time, Marilla was more than angry. She was furious! "Go to your room, right now!" She pointed at the stairs with her index finger and Anne scrambled to her feet and ran for her life upstairs. She tossed herself on her bed and started crying. Not too loudly, though. She didn't want Marilla to hear her tears. She lay there for hours. Even the sun dipped over the horizon, and the moon rose in the pale blue sky, which turned inky black later on.

She was far into a self-made story about princess Cordelia locked up in a high tower with fire-breathing dragons guarding the entrance when there was a soft knock on her door.

She froze.

Maybe, if she didn't move, the person outside the door would leave.

Unless it was Matthew. Because Matthew was kind to her. He and Anne were kindred spirits. She didn't want to risk it being Matthew, so she slipped out of bed and opened the door. It wasn't Matthew.

Marilla was standing outside the door, with a tray in her hands. "When you didn't come down for supper," Marilla said, in lieu of an explanation as to why she was there, "I thought I might as well bring you dinner. I'm not in the habit of starving little girls."

Anne went back under the covers without a single word, which was odd, coming from her. She kept her back to the older woman.

She heard the tray being placed on her small desk and then felt the bed creak a little as Marilla's weight made the mattress tilt to the side. She wasn't a heavy woman, but she was still bigger than Anne.

"Was it that terrible? School?" Marilla asked, her voice softer than Anne had ever heard it.

She nodded silently, still not turning around.

"Why didn't you tell me, Anne?"

The redhead didn't reply right away. Even she needed to find the right words. "I was-" she cut herself short, swallowing. "I was afraid you'd send me back because I couldn't go to school. Surely you wouldn't want me around the house..."

"Oh, dear child," Marilla said, laying a hand on Anne's shoulder. It was a soft touch, not the grab-the-shoulders-in-anger touch she had experienced once, before. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way." She paused. "Matthew and I want you to be happy. But I'm afraid you still need to go to school," she said, sharpness seeping back into her voice. "Diana was really worried about you, and she misses her desk partner."

Anne finally turned around to look at Marilla. "She does?"

"Yes." Marilla sighed. "Now eat your soup before it gets cold. It's not good to go to bed with an empty stomach."

Anne accepted and sat at her desk, eating the vegetable soup that warmed her all over.

"Can you promise me that you'll go to school – for real this time – on Monday? And in exchange," Marilla said, "I promise to be a good listener if you ever need to talk about a bad day?"

Anne smiled softly at Marilla. "I promise."

"Good. Me too."

Anne quickly finished her soup and then Marilla left, after reminding Anne to say her prayers before sleeping.

As soon as she was out the room, Anne knelt by her bedside, linked her hands together in front of her, and looked up, beyond the ceiling and the Green Gables roof.

"Gracious Heavenly Father," she started, as always. "Thank you for letting me stay at Green Gables. Thank you for Diana, who is such a kindred spirit." She paused. "Please, bless Matthew and Marilla, tonight. Amen."

She slipped under the covers and didn't even realize that she had forgotten the most important thing she always asked God: to make her beautiful when she grew up.

But curiously enough, it didn't matter, just then. She was staying at Green Gables, and it was all that mattered. She was happy. And she fell asleep fast, dreaming of trees, and flowers, and chocolate brown eyes.

When she woke up the next morning, she felt like a new person. The sun was shining in the bright blue sky, birds were singing in the cherry tree just outside her window, and her heart was light. As light as it had ever been.

Anne got dressed while humming a happy tune she had heard at some point during her short existence and she braided her red hair without even noticing they were still the plain ugly red they had always been. It was a new day, and she wasn't doing to let anything ruin it.

She skipped down the steps, but once she got downstairs, Matthew and Marilla were nowhere to be seen. She looked left and right but they weren't either in the kitchen or the dining room.

"Anne?" Marilla called to her from the sitting room.

Anne's heart quickened its pace. Was something wrong? Had something happened?

She practically ran to the sitting room, but when she saw both Matthew and Marilla in their best Sunday clothes – although it was a Saturday – she knew right away something was happening.

Matthew held out a pen and some ink. "We want you to sign our family Bible," he said. "With your new name."

Anne frowned, confused.

"Well, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, of course!" Marilla said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anne started to see all blurry, and a wide grin formed on her lips. Try as she might, she couldn't take it off. She ran to hug Matthew, who was surprised at the sudden outburst of affection – since he wasn't really used to it – and awkwardly hugged her back with the pen and ink still in his hands. Anne also grabbed Marilla's waist and pulled her into the hug. Her face was buried in Matthew's shoulder and she tried to stop the crying.

"Now, now," Marilla said, patting Anne's head uneasily. "'Tis not a day for crying, Anne."

"I know," Anne said, pulling her head away from Matthew. "I'm just so happy!"

"Dry your tears," Marilla said, "you don't want them blotching the ink on the paper, now do you?"

Anne shook her head and quickly dried her tears, half laughing and half crying. "Okay, I'm ready!"

Matthew gave her the pen and Anne took a step towards the Bible on the table. Her pen froze above the paper. "Wait. Shouldn't there be a ceremony of some sort?" She asked, looking at the two elderly people.

Matthew chuckled lightly and Marilla nodded, despite herself. "I'll go get a bottle of raspberry cordial for when after you signed."

Anne grinned and waited for Marilla to come back with the bottle.

It took her three tries to get her new name correctly on the page of the family book. But in the end, she was happy with the little flourishes and the hyphen she had added to it.

"There. Perfect."


	4. 4 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 4 – Gilbert Blythe**

**Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. May 1896.**

Gilbert Blythe spent his weekend with his father. He read to him some of his favorite passages from the Bible. John Blythe loved the Psalms best.

_"The __Lord __is __my shepherd;_

_I shall not __want._

_He makes me lie down in __green pastures_

_He leads me beside the __still waters._

_He restores my soul._

_He leads me in the paths of righteousness_

_For His name's sake._

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of __the shadow of death,_

_I will fear no evil;_

_For You __are __with me;_

_Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me._

_You __prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;_

_You __anoint my head with oil;_

_My cup runs over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me_

_All the days of my life;_

_And I will __dwell in the house of the__Lord_

_Forever."_

Gilbert liked Psalm 23, too, and lingered on the page a moment before closing the Bible. "I'm going to go make us some dinner," he said, standing up. He headed to the kitchen and reheated some soup Mrs. Brandon had left for them. He also sliced some fresh bread she had made and brought the food some time later on a platter.

~.~.~

When Gilbert woke up on Monday morning, he made sure his father had everything he needed before Mrs. Brandon came. Then, he walked on to school, oblivious to his surroundings. For the first time since that new girl came to town, he wasn't thinking about her.

He was worried about his father, and about what the doctor had said last time they were in Charlottetown. A few months. What did a few months mean? Two? Three? Six? He knew his father was soon going to be on borrowed time and that he was going to find himself all alone.

Before he knew it, he was in front of the school, where a group of other kids was playing loudly.

"Gilbert, man!" Billy Andrews said, coming over and slapping a hand on his shoulder. Gilbert slapped him back on the shoulder and offered him a fake smile. He really didn't like this boy. At all.

"I'm going inside," he told him. He had a book to read, which was much more interesting than goofing around with the boys, tossing baseballs at each other.

He stepped inside the schoolhouse and was immediately welcomed by a group of girls who had taken refuge from the hazardous throws, outside.

"Good morning, Gilbert," rose-cheeked Ruby said.

"Hi," Gilbert replied absentmindedly. He went to his seat and opened his book, ignoring the world around him. He wondered suddenly what Anne Shirley was going to do today, in the woods.

"Anne! It's Anne!" A girl said. The name lit a spark in Gilbert's heart.

Wait. She was here? He turned around and saw her, engulfed in Diana's hug. Anne was grinning so widely that Gilbert smiled too. Until she met his gaze and quickly looked away, ignoring him. He looked away, too, not wanting to look like a fool, and kept his ears open, only looking at the pages of his book, in case she said something about him convincing her to come back to school.

But no. There was only talk about Diana and Ruby who had come over and how Marilla Cuthbert had relayed their message.

A minute later, Mr. Philipps came into the room, his hard heels making the wooden floor creak under his weight. The group of boys came in right after him and quickly sat at their own desks.

"Spelling bee," Mr. Philipps said. Everyone, line up against the blackboard."

Almost as one man, the students stood and went to the blackboard. It was chaos until they were all lined up in no particular order. Without consulting each other, they had separated the class in two: girls on one side, and boys on the other. Josie Pye and Billy Andrews were the ones marking the limit of each group.

"All right, let's start from the left," Mr. Philipps said. "Tillie Boulter. Spell _sparrow_."

Tillie wrung her hands together and took a deep breath. "S-P-A-R-O-W."

"Wrong, go sit down," he said. "Jane Andrews, _sparrow_."

"S-P-A-R-R-O-W."

"Correct. Ruby Gillis, spell _peonies_."

Ruby smiled, but Gilbert had no idea why. Maybe they were her favorite flowers? Who cared? "P-E-O-N-N-I-E-S."

"Wrong. Josie Pye?"

"P-E-O-N-I-E-S."

"Correct. New girl. Spell _dictionary_," Mr. Philipps said.

Gilbert looked at Anne and hoped she would spell it right. But since she was a really good reader, she might just be a worthy opponent in the spelling bee.

"D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y," she said.

"Correct," the teacher said, disappointed. And on and on it went until it was Gilbert's turn. "Gilbert Blythe. Spell _thoroughly_."

Gilbert spelled it without a mistake. "T-H-O-R-O-U-G-H-L-Y."

It didn't take long until there were only two students left in front of the class: Anne and Gilbert. The girls were cheering on Anne and the boys on him.

Mr. Philipps threw words at them one after the other, and Anne and Gilbert dodged them with ease. It was going on forever, and the other students were growing restless in the classroom. Gilbert knew they had to end the duel, and fast. Also, Mr. Philipps was running out of extremely complicated words for them to spell out.

"Gilbert," Mr. Philipps said. "Chrysanthemum."

Gilbert tried not to look at Anne. But he knew what he needed to do.

"C-H-R-Y-S-A-N-T-H-M-U-M."

"Wrong!" Mr. Philipps said. "Finally. Anne?"

Anne held her chin high. "C-H-R-Y-S-A-N-T-H-_E_-M-U-M," with an emphasis on the last E.

"Thank you," Mr. Philipps said. "Anne won this round, please take your seats."  
Anne and Gilbert exchanged a glance. Both of them were rather smug, but for very different reasons.

"Should've added the E," Gilbert said a satisfied smile on his face.

"Yes, you should have," she replied before joining Diana at her desk.

Of course, Gilbert decided that Anne would never know he had done that on purpose, just to let her win and make her happy. She needed to be in a good place at this school. And if she was one of the best students, she would have a nice chance.

Mr. Philipps had just started to dictate the math exercise when Moody raised his hand.

"Uhm, excuse me, sir, but it's already half-past twelve."

Philipps looked at the clock on the wall. "We'll finish this exercise this afternoon," he said, "scatter away. Prissy Andrews? Please stay behind, there is something I'd like to talk to you about."

Gilbert stayed behind a little, putting away his books before heading outside. Almost everyone was out, and he walked past the group of girls, of which Anne was the center.

"I can't believe you beat Gilbert Blythe," Diana said. "Forever since I can remember, he's always won the spelling bee."

Gilbert smirked at the remark.

"Hey Anne," Billy Andrews said, coming over. "Can you spell _orphan_?"

"And can you spell _ugly_?" another boy asked.

"Hey Billy," Gilbert said. "Do you know what I-D-I-O-T means?"

Everyone sniggered before Billy could make out the word in his mind. He had been one of the first boys to get eliminated from the spelling bee, and never got further than that in any case.

The girls walked away to their usual corner, bringing Anne with them. She quickly looked over her shoulder at him, but he was already looking at her. She quickly looked away and laughed at something Diana was saying.

Gilbert smiled. At least she had some friends, now.

He joined Charlie and Moody to eat, but tuned out their conversation and picked out his book when they joined Billy and his friends to toss each other baseballs.

"You misspelled that word on purpose, didn't you?" someone said, sitting next to Gilbert.

He looked up to see it was Cole Mackenzie. "What makes you say that?" He asked.

"You never misspell anything, and you looked pretty smug about it." Cole chuckled.

"Don't tell Anne," Gilbert replied. "She doesn't need to know."

"I don't think she'd want to know you let her win, to be honest," Cole said. "She's too proud for that."

Both boys chuckled, and then they both went back to their book. Gilbert to his philosophy essay, and Cole to his sketchbook. Gilbert didn't notice Cole was drawing him reading.

~.~.~

For the next three days, Gilbert watched Anne make her place in school, helped by Diana, Ruby, and the others. He was looking forward to going to school every day, just to see her. He found a worthy opponent in her, and he was glad for the challenge in class. Except with math and geometry. Anne didn't seem to be very fond of it.

On the night between Thursday and Friday, the emergency bell woke him up with a start, calling from a few miles away. He scrambled out of bed and looked through his window: there was a fire in the distance. He quickly put some clothes on, saddled his horse as fast as he could, and galloped to the burning house.

It turned out to be the Gillis' house, and the women were standing outside, crying, as the men formed a line to bring buckets of water from the stream.

Gilbert, who was young and agile, climbed up the ladder to the roof and took the buckets coming up from Billy Andrews and the other younger boys. His only focus was to put water on the flames, and he didn't think of anything else.

Until a shrill voice pierced his thoughts and it almost made him fall down the ladder.  
"Anne! Anne come back!"

Gilbert looked down at Diana who was being held back by some other girls, as well as Marilla who was being held back, too, by the women. She was also calling out Anne's name.  
Gilbert didn't understand. Why would they call to Anne? Where had she gone?

"Take the bucket, Gilbert!" Billy said, shaking him back to reality.

Gilbert took it and spilled the water on the flames through the window. He couldn't do anything else. Until he saw movement inside the house through the corner of his eye. He snapped his head that way and saw Anne holding a piece of fabric against her mouth and nose, silently closing the doors inside the burning house.

Gilbert was frozen in fear. What in God's name was she doing? Didn't she see the house was going to collapse soon?

He absentmindedly took the buckets of water Billy was handing him, keeping an eye on the ground for Anne.

Why wasn't she coming out? Where was she?

"Anne! Oh, thank God, there she is!" A female voice said, and over the noises of the furnace, he didn't know who had said this.

He relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe! He kept an eye on her and the women on the floor, and he saw Anne falling on her knees, coughing. His insides clenched, and he silently prayed she was okay.

After a few moments, the fire in the house diminished, and he and some other boys managed to extinguish the remaining flames. That's when he realized that Anne had saved the house.

"By cutting the oxygen," he heard her say to the others below, "it killed the fire."

Gilbert climbed down the ladder. "Anne saved the house!" he said. "She stopped the fire!"

By then, everyone gathered around the Gillis family and Anne, and congratulations were given from left and right. Arrangements were also made to help the Gillis family until their house could be repaired. Most of the men offered their help on it, and by the time everyone was ready to go, dawn had slowly come, and the day was starting again. There would be no school that day.

Gilbert watched Anne and the Cuthberts go back to Green Gables while he mounted his horse and rode off back home. His eyes were heavy and his arms ached after carrying so many water buckets, but he made it home without a problem. His father was still sleeping, and Gilbert went straight to bed to finish his night. He fell asleep right away.

But he woke up with a start when he saw Anne in his dreams walking through fire, and he couldn't do anything to save her. He sat up in bed, all sweaty and shaking.

He checked the time. It was almost eleven o'clock. He had better get up and tell his father about the fire and the Gillis family and how Anne saved the day.

* * *

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I just love writing from Gilbert's POV ^^**_

_**Let me know which POV you prefer and why! Oh, and don't forget to follow and favorite so you don't miss the next chapter! see you soon!**_


	5. 5 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 5 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, June 1896._**

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had been going to school for a month and had been at Green Gables for a little more than that. She always said her full name at any opportunity she could find. She was proud to be a Cuthbert.

Matthew and Marilla had hired a farm boy to help out, because, as Matthew was getting old and though Anne claimed she could do farm chores as well as any boy, she needed to go to school and have a real childhood. It would be a nice change, for once...

Every week, she and Gilbert fought for the spelling bee test, and every time, Mr. Philipps tired more and more quickly and just pronounced them both winners.

Which annoyed Anne a great deal. She needed to prove to them that she was not a stupid orphan girl. She was smart and intelligent, and now a Cuthbert.

Gilbert even had the audacity to try to talk to her a few times, but she pushed him away every time. She didn't need him to come rubbing his good grades in her face.

Well, the only school subject she wasn't as good as he were mathematics. Oh, how she hated numbers! They were nothing compared to letters and words! She could read for hours and never get tired. But numbers? Mathematics? Geometry? Everything seemed to dance on the page and she couldn't seem to focus and keep the lines in place.

One evening, she was sitting at the kitchen table reading the same math problem over and over again. She couldn't get it inside her head. Once she got to the last part, she had already forgotten the first part. And there was a headache brewing over the horizon. She could feel it.

Anne sighed and put her face in her hands, willing the headache and the coming fog away. The fire cracking noise, the newspaper pages Matthew was turning, and Marilla's click-click of knitting needles all faded away as if she was underwater again.

This hadn't happened in a few months, but now, it was back. She felt like she was drowning and didn't know where was up and where was down.

She had never drowned for real, but she could imagine it pretty clearly.

"Anne?"

A voice came to her from afar. She tried to listen to it again.

"Anne, are you okay?"

Someone was shaking her shoulder and she could finally hear normally again. There was no buzzing sound anymore.

"Anne, are you feeling alright?" Marilla asked her.

Anne shook her head, unable to answer anything. A tear streamed down her cheek and Marilla sat down on the kitchen bench next to her.

"Oh, my dear child," she said, trying to soothe the poor girl. "Whatever is the matter?"

She looked down at the exercise on the paper on the table. "Oh, mathematics..."

Anne nodded against Marilla's shoulder.

"Is this lesson for tomorrow?"

"Yes," Anne said.

"You know what," Marilla said, "maybe you should get a good night's sleep. You'll wake up earlier tomorrow morning and I'll help you with it. What do you say?"

Anne released Marilla and nodded. She wiped her tears and nodded. A big yawn surprised both of them, and they chuckled.

"Thank you, Marilla," Anne said, hugging the old lady. "Good night." She also went to kiss Matthew goodnight, and then went upstairs to get ready for bed.

While she was getting comfortable in bed for a good restful night, Marilla was trying to understand the math problem Anne had left in the kitchen.

The next morning, when Anne woke up, dawn was well on its way. She would have time to do this mathematics exercise before going to school. She slipped out of her nightgown, pulled on her dress, tied the apron above it, laced her shoes, and braided her hair.

She skipped down the stairs, only to find Marilla asleep at the kitchen table, her mathematics paper next to her, along with a slate and a tiny piece of chalk.

"Marilla?" Anne said, coming over and touching the woman on the shoulder.

Marilla, startled, woke up instantly. "Dear Lord. Is it morning already?"

"Did you sleep here all night?" Anne asked. "Oh Marilla, I'm so sorry. I should have done-"

"Nonsense," Marilla cut her. "I was able to figure it out. But first, let me just make some coffee. Mine is cold." She stood and went about the kitchen, making some coffee. While it was getting ready, she sat at the table and explained the problems to Anne.

"I haven't done this in fifty years, to be honest," Marilla said, so my methods might be different from the ones Mr. Philipps is teaching you." When Anne had finished the exercises and Marilla had finished preparing breakfast and Anne's lunch for school, she sat across from her at the table. Matthew was not there yet.

"Anne, is there anyone in school who is really good with numbers and mathematics?"  
One name came into mind, and she almost blurted it out without thinking. "Gil- a boy," she corrected herself. "He always has the best grades in mathematics."

Marilla nodded. "Then I suggest you ask him for help. He could come after school once or twice every week to help you with your lessons."

"No." Anne's answer seemed pretty final.

"Why not?" Marilla asked. "He might be your best chance at succeeding in that subject. At my age, I don't think I can pull another night like this one, Anne."

Anne frowned and drank her milk. She'd rather drown in numbers than ask that boy for help. She'd rather go through fifty headaches than _ask_ for his help.

"Is there anyone else?" Marilla asked.

Anne didn't reply. Everyone was drowning in numbers. All the girls were- "Prissy Andrews!" she exclaimed. "But she's going to Queens next year... And this year is almost done anyway."

"Well then. We will find a solution for next year, all right?" Marilla said. "There are only two weeks of school left."

Anne nodded, finished her breakfast, and went to school. She met Diana on the way there, like each morning, and they talked about many things that were not numbers or mathematics. Anything but that, really.

Once in class, all the students gave back their math paper, depositing them on Mr. Philipps' desk and went back to their tables.

"I know there are only two more weeks of school," he said sternly, "but it's no reason to start slacking in anything. This math paper will be graded." He paused and cleared his voice.

"The next spelling bee will only have one winner. And I'm going to keep you locked in here until one is victorious."

The class moaned.

"Sir," Moody said, raising his hand. "Can't you just keep the last ones inside?"

"No." Mr. Philipps frowned at Moody. "You, more than anyone must learn your spelling."

Moody deflated.

Anne stood straight. She may not be excellent in math, but she did excel in everything close to English, words, and reading. She could beat Gilbert Blythe once and for all. He better not misspell anything on purpose, though.

"Right," Mr. Philipps said. "Take out a paper and write a two-page essay on why knowing how to spell correctly is important in your little, worthless lives."

Anne didn't have to be asked twice. She would prove to him in this essay – and she knew she would need more than two pages for that – that spelling and reading were important, and that their lives were not little, or worthless.

She abandoned herself to her words and didn't realize that Mr. Philipps was checking their math papers at the same time. When Anne came back to reality, she had written three pages and a half, while Diana, next to her, had only written one. And Anne wasn't even done yet.

By lunchtime, she had written five pages. She numbered them and wrote her name on each page, making sure Mr. Philipps wouldn't miss one. She and the others put their papers on his desk.

"Anne Shirley," the teacher said. The whole class froze, listening. "What is this?" he asked, holding her pile of paper.

"My essay, sir," she replied.

"I asked for two pages. Not seventeen."

"There are only five, sir."

"Like I said. I want only two." He threw the papers her way, the pages floating to the ground at her feet. "You'll stay inside during lunch and rewrite this. Only. Two. Pages."

Anne felt her cheeks burns and her eyes sting. What humiliation! She picked up her pages and went back to her desk while everyone filed out of the class to spend the break outside.

Anne didn't even take her lunch basket and dived in right away into her essay. Could she fit five pages into two if she wrote _really_ small? She had to try. There was no way she was going to cut out pieces, or even reduce her thoughts. This was what she had to say and she would say it.

She had written five tiny lines when someone placed her lunch basket on her desk, along with an apple.

"It's from our orchard. They're really sweet, you should try it."

Anne looked up at Gilbert, who smiled at her and walked away. She had the urge to throw the apple at him, but with Mr. Philipps watching, she decided against it. She was in enough trouble as it was.

She ignored him and continued writing. As fast as she could and as tiny as she could. In thirty minutes, she had copied her text, and it held exactly on two pages.

She stood to bring it to Mr. Philipps, who was eating a ginormous sandwich.

"There," she said slapping the pages on the desk. "Two pages."

Before her teacher could say anything – he had his mouth full and was absolutely disgustingly chewing loudly – Anne stormed out if the classroom and went outside. She joined the girls with her basket in one hand and the apple in the other.

"How did you finish so fast?" Diana asked. "It took us three hours to get our two pages done."

Anne smirked. "I wrote very small."

Diana and Josie burst out laughing, but Ruby and Tillie didn't.

"What's funny?" Ruby asked.

Diana caught her breath. "She squeezed in five pages into two, silly."

"Oh." But Ruby still didn't laugh.

Anne just had time to eat her sandwich and apple and drink her milk when Mr. Philipps rang the bell outside, and everyone came back in class.

Mr. Philipps seemed eerily silent and angry. Everyone sat still, not daring to move a muscle.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," he said very calmly. "Do you really take me for a fool?"

Anne frowned, feigning ignorance. "No, sir."

He brandished the two pages in front of the whole class. "You copied your five-page essay on these two pages."

Behind Anne, someone stood and started clapping ever so slowly. She didn't turn around. More people joined the slow applause.

"That was pretty smart on her part," Gilbert Blythe said. "She did what you asked. She filled two pages."

Mr. Philipps was seething. "That is called cheating. Sit down!" He looked at Anne. "You will get a zero for this, and redo your essay for tomorrow. Two pages, in regular script."

He lit a candle on his desk and dipped a corner of the paper in the flame, watching and grinning as Anne's essay combusted into flames.

Anne didn't move. The whole group of students was frozen into place as if time itself has stopped. The only noise was the crackling paper turning to ash before their very eyes.

"Now, for your math papers," Mr. Philipps said looking over his class, displeased. "It's like you never listen to what I teach you." One after the other, he called the students to come take their paper, in order of grades, from the worst to the best.

Charlie Sloan started with a 1/20, followed closely behind by Billy Andrews with a 2/20, and Moody Spurgeon with a 4/20. Then there was a gap and grades started again at 7/20.

"Anne Shirley, 8/20. Between this and your essay, you really don't finish this school year well. You better start doing something about it." Anne didn't reply. She had a strong urge to just leave the class and run to her cabin in the forest, but she forced herself to stay. Even Diana had a 12/20! But of course, the best grades went to Prissy Andrews, with a 19/20, and to Gilbert, with a 20/20.

The afternoon went by ever so slowly, and everyone was yearning to get back home.  
When the clock stroke four o'clock, the kids gathered their books and baskets and bags and walked away before Mr. Philipps could say anything. It was like they were on starting blocks and were ready for a race.

Anne was the first one out. There was no way she was lingering for people to tease her about her essay and her bad mathematics grade.

She didn't even wait for Diana.

"Anne?" Gilbert called after her. "Wait!"

Anne slowed down but didn't stop. Gilbert caught up with her pretty easily. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you very much." Anne kept her chin high. There was no way she was showing him how devastated she was at the moment.

"I had an idea," he offered. But when Anne didn't say anything, he continued. "I can help you. With mathematics." He paused. "If you want, that is."

Anne shrugged. At least she wouldn't have to ask him for help since he was offering it.

"No," she said. "There's nothing I can help you with in exchange..." She trailed off. "But thank you for the offer."

"I'm not asking for anything in exchange," he replied. "I just want to help you."

"If I accept, I'm not letting you do it for free." She accelerated her steps. If she lingered with him for too long, people might see them, or she might just say yes.

"Okay, fine," he said. "You can do something in exchange for me."

Anne looked up at the brown-haired boy with the chocolate-colored eyes. "What?"

"Baked goods."

Anne burst out laughing. "Oh wait, you're serious," she said when he didn't laugh.

"I am." He sighed. "It's just me and my father, and Mrs. Brandon comes only three times a week for cleaning and the occasional meal. But fresh bread, or cookies? Never."

"Deal," Anne said quickly without really thinking. "But no one knows about this. And we don't walk home together."

"Okay," he said, smiling. "When do we start?"

"It's too late for this school year, anyway," Anne said. "In September?"

Gilbert's shoulders slumped. "There will probably be one more math test next week," he said. "Let me help you get ready for it?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. Tomorrow, at Green gables come one hour after school."

Gilbert nodded and then walked the opposite direction to go to his home, where his father was waiting. Anne continued her way.

* * *

_**Hi! here's another Anne POV ;) I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think about this story (review!), which POV you prefer, and don't forget to Follow and Favorite for more! (we're already at almost 1.7k views in only 4 chapters... WOW! thank you so much!)**_


	6. 6 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 6 – Gilbert Blythe**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. June 1896_**

Gilbert felt like the happiest boy in Canada when he made his way from his home to Green Gables, making sure to arrive exactly one hour after Anne, as she had asked. Why she didn't want people to see them together was still a mystery to him. But oh, well. At least he got to spend some time with her. He practically ran along the way but made sure not to arrive breathless, but as casual as possible.

He arrived at Green Gables and walked up to the front door, his heart hammering in his chest and butterflies making summersaults in his belly. What was wrong with him?  
He knocked on the door and a few moments later, someone opened the door. He hoped it would be Anne.

"Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert said. "Good afternoon. Is Anne here?"

"Good afternoon, Gilbert," Marilla said a little coldly. "Yes, Anne is waiting for you in the kitchen. Come in."

"Thank you," he said walking inside.

And true enough, she was already sitting at the kitchen table, strongly focused on a math problem. Gilbert could almost see smoke coming out of her ears from the concentration. He let out a chuckle.

Anne looked up. "Oh. You're here." She paused. Gilbert was about to come sit next to her but she quickly took the situation in her hands. "Please sit across the table."

"Uh, alright," he replied. It would be harder to read anything upside down, but he would try. "So, what are you working on?"

"Fractions," she said, disgust dripping from her voice.

"I see," he replied, a tad amused. "Can I read the problem?"

"Before we start," she said, "I need you to promise me something."

"Sure. What?" he replied, curious.

"Promise me you will never fall in love with me."

Gilbert stared at her for a full three seconds. That was not what he had expected her to say.

"Uh. I guess?" But in truth, it was already too late, and, deep down, he knew it.

Anne grinned. "Good. I've always dreamed of saying that to someone, one day. I read that in a book once, and it was so tragical it gave me goosebumps." She giggled and handed him the paper. Gilbert got a hold of himself and read the exercise out loud. "What did you understand of that?" He asked.

And Anne told him.

Gilbert looked at her, confused. "That's right. So, what don't you understand?"

"It's not that I don't understand, it's that the numbers all mix up on the page. I read the math backward, and I can't make it out. Everything just seems to dance on the page."

"Alright," Gilbert said slowly, trying to see it through her eyes. "Let me try something."

He stood and went to see Marilla who was sewing in the room next door. "Miss Cuthbert? Do you, by any chance, have a pie?"

"A pie?" She asked, confused.

"Yes, a pie. It's to help Anne." He knew the demand was odd, but he needed to try.

"Eating pie won't help her do mathematics," Marilla said, frowning.

Gilbert chuckled. "We're not going to eat it. At least not yet."

Marilla humpfed and went to the pantry. She took out a pear pie and gave it to Gilbert.

"Thank you very much," he said. Then, he joined Anne in the kitchen. "Alright," he said. "This might help." He put the pie in the middle of the table and took out some plates. He cut the pie in two and put a half on another plate. "What did I just do?" He asked.

Anne rolled her eyes. "You cut the pie in two."

"Correct. And what is this?" he asked, pointing at the remaining half in the pie dish.

"Half a pie," she replied. "Gilbert, what are you playing at?"

"Hear me out," he said, taking Anne's slate, the one who was still cracked from when she had whacked him over the head on her first day of school. He smirked at the memory. He drew a circle. "This is the pie," he said, and he added a '1' next to it. "There's only one piece. Correct?"

Anne nodded.

Gilbert drew a second circle. "This is the pie again, and we cut it in two." He drew a line in the middle of the second circle. "What do we have?"

"Two halves."

"That's right. Now, look at this." He wrote '2' next to the second pie. "The two halves are still on the same plate, so we write 2/2." He looked at Anne. "Are you following?"  
Anne nodded. "And when you take out half," she said taking the chalk from his fingers and drawing only a half pie next to the second one, "it's only one out of two." She wrote '1/2' next to it.

"Exactly!" He grinned from ear to ear. "Now let's try cutting the pie into three equal parts," he said, drawing said pie on the slate. "What does that make, in numbers?"

Anne thought for a couple of seconds. "Three out of three?"

"Yes! And now I take a slice to eat it," he continued, coloring inside one if the slices.

"What's the fraction?"

"The fraction?" she asked, confused.

"In numbers. This," he pointed to the '1/2', is called a fraction."

"Oh, right." She paused. "You left two slices, that's... Two out of three?" She wrote 2/3 on the slate.

Gilbert nodded. She was smart. She understood the fractions. Then why was it so hard for her? "And what did I eat?"

"One third."

Gilbert nodded. "There. You understand the basics." They continued on for some time, cutting imaginary pies in equals parts, and making fractions. Then he taught her how to add and subtract those fractions. He didn't see any comprehension problems. So it must be something else entirely.

"Well," she said. "It's not that hard when the numbers are translated into pies and slices." And without further notice, she cut a slice of the real pear pie in front of them and ate heartily. The food had been teasing them for the past hour.

"All these numbers made me hungry," she said.

Gilbert just gazed at her, his mouth curving into a smile. After shaking himself out of his gazing, he took a slice for himself, too.

~.~.~

Upon arriving home, Gilbert went directly to his father's room and knocked lightly, making sure he wasn't asleep.

"Come in," a weak voice invited him inside, so Gilbert stepped inside.

"Hi, Dad," he greeted, sitting on the bed beside him. "Look what I got." He presented the basket with the promised baked goods from Anne. He lifted the towel on top and a warm, sugary scent drafted from the basket.

"Cookies?" his father asked, sitting up a little straighter in his bed. "Where did you get those? I don't remember Mrs. Brandon baking them..."

Gilbert grinned. "Because it wasn't her," he replied. "It's my payment for helping Anne with her math lessons."

"Anne? The girl staying with the Cuthberts?" John Blythe asked, frowning.

"Yes. She's been adopted by them, remember?"

"Right." He paused, coughed, and sighed. "How were the lessons?" he inquired, using his remaining daily strength to talk with his son a little while.

Gilbert told him about the pies, how Anne understood quickly, and that comprehension was not the problem. He told him how she had explained that the numbers seemed to dance on the page and she couldn't focus on them, and how she had said that it never happened with letters and words when she was reading books.

John Blythe frowned, thinking. "I've heard of something like this before. My brother – your uncle, the one who died when you were a little boy – had the same problem. He couldn't focus on numbers, but had no problems with words and books." John paused, wheezing and coughing.

"I'll figure it out," Gilbert said. "Don't worry yourself about this, dad."

"Listen to me," his dad said, putting a hand on his son's arm. "Write to my doctor friend, in Charlottetown about Anne and her problems with numbers. Maybe he can help you."

"You think it's a medical problem?" Gilbert asked, skeptical.

"Ask him about it. Maybe it isn't," he said, coughing again. "But better to cover all grounds, eh?" He attempted a smile, for his son's sake, and then lay back down on his pillow.

"Thanks, Dad," Gilbert said. "I'll go get some supper ready." He tiptoed out of the room with the basket and went to the kitchen. There, he took out the contents of it. There were two fresh loaves of bread, a box with chocolate chip cookies, four eggs, and a big glass jar of thick, creamy, soup. Gilbert grinned. Finally something else than watery soup with uneven vegetable pieces in it.

He poured the soup into a saucepan and lit the stove. He stirred, making sure not to burn the precious soup and made dinner.

That's when he realized that this was much more than what he and Anne had bargained for. He had only asked for baked goods. But there was soup and eggs with it as well. He would have to ask Anne about it, the next day in school.

After eating dinner with his father, doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, he went to work on his own lessons. It was quickly done.

He took out a paper and an envelope and wrote to the doctor in Charlottetown. He didn't believe this had any medical premises, but like his father had said, better cover the problem from all angles. Then he went to bed.

The next morning, he left earlier on his horse, went to Avonlea to the post office, and then to school. The other students were surprised to see him arriving like that, but he ignored the questions and tied his horse to the railing.

Anne was already inside and hadn't seen his equestrian entrance. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she completely ignored him. She was engrossed in a conversation with Ruby and Diana. The lesson started with Mr. Philipps asking them to give back their math homework.

For lunch, Gilbert had made himself a sandwich with Anne's bread, along with two eggs from her chicken house. He smiled at the thought. But he also needed to make sure his horse

had enough to eat from where he was tied.

He was surprised to see Anne petting his black horse on the nose, talking to him as if he was a fellow human.

"...and I wonder what your name is," she was saying. "I hope your owner didn't _not_ give you a name, like Matthew with Belle. That was the name I chose for her and it suits her perfectly." She paused. "If I had to name you, I'd name you-"

"His name is Charcoal," Gilbert said, coming over from the other side of the horse, startling Anne. "But I call him Charlie, sometimes." He paused and chuckled. "Don't tell Charlie Sloan, though."

Anne stiffened a little. "He's yours," she stated.

"Yes." He paused. What else should he say to her? "Oh, thanks for the basket," he said. "But the soup and eggs weren't part of the bargain."

Anne rolled her eyes and picked up her own basket on the ground, getting ready to leave. "Marilla insisted," she said without any other explication.

Then, she turned her back on him and stepped away.

"Anne, wait," he said, catching up with her and standing in front of her to block her way. "Yesterday you were so-" he abruptly cut himself, not sure exactly what he had intended to say in the first place. "Why are you ignoring me today?"

Anne looked around. "Because if the girls see me talking to you, they're going to stone me."

Gilbert gasped dramatically. "Literally?"

"It's a manner of speech, Gilbert." She sighed. "Long story short, we can't talk in public. Now let me pass."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, stayed put for a couple more seconds, and then stepped aside, letting the fiery girl walk away.

That was his first mistake. Well, the first of the day. He had done so many wrong things with Anne. Like calling her _Carrots_…

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed another Gilbert POV ;)**_

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	7. 7 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 7 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. June 1896._**

"I can't believe this is finally the last day of school," Josie Pye said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "This year felt like ten!"

"How can one year be ten years?" Ruby asked, confused.

Anne put a hand on her arm. "It just means it felt really long."

"Don't waste your time, Ugly," Billy Andrews said, walking over and overhearing the conversation. "Ruby's stupid."

"Take that back, Billy!" his sister Jane said.

"What?" he shrugged. "It's the truth."

"Why don't you go bully someone your size, Billy," Anne said, trying to stay calm. She didn't want to spoil the last day of school.

"Ow!" Billy said just as someone whacked him behind the head.

"Go away, Billy," Gilbert said. "You ladies alright?"

Anne raised an eyebrow. As if they needed anyone's help to get rid of Billy. Especially not his.

"Yes, thank you, Gilbert," Ruby said softly, hearts filling her caramel-colored eyes. She smiled at him, practically fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Anne smirked and noticed that Gilbert was not even seeing Ruby. He was looking at her! How dare he!

"It's time to go inside," Anne said, pulling Diana into the schoolhouse.

"Anne, what's wrong with you?" Diana asked once they were inside. "Every single time Gilbert comes close to you, you run away. Why?"

Anne frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Diana." She prepared her books on her table, her cracked slate on the side, and the last remaining piece of chalk she owned for the school year.

"You should really buy a new slate, you know?" Diana suggested, sitting next to her. "Unless you keep it as a souvenir, to think about Gilbert." Diana wiggled her eyebrows and giggled.

"I do not, Diana. Take that back."

Diana chuckled and took out her books. She was not taking it back.

Mr. Philipps came in, his heels clicking on the wooden floor. It was the _'noise of death'_ like Anne had started calling it.

"Alright, class. Quiet down." He hit his desk with his new toy, a thin wooden rod. He had been using it on fingers, palms, and bottoms for the past week. Everyone froze. "Good." He opened his book. "As a treat for the last day of school, we are going to do a dictation."

The whole class groaned. Of course, his notion of treats would be different than theirs.

"Take a paper, write the date, and draw a margin on the left. Just as usual."

"Is it going to be graded?" Moody Spurgeon asked without raising his hand.

"Yes," Mr. Philipps said. "And yours is going to count double for speaking out of turn."

Moody groaned. But Anne knew she would have a good grade, if not excellent. If only she could make it count double, it would improve her yearly grades, which would only be counted since she had arrived in Avonlea, two months ago.

_"...Dost… thou… come… whispering… of… hushed… scenes… like… these… _coma,", Mr. Philipps dictated, very slowly.

Anne wrote as fast as he spoke, and she didn't need the second time around when he repeated the lines of the verses. It was poetry.

No one in the classroom was focused. Ruby was gazing outside the window; Cole was doodling in the margin of the paper; Gilbert was reading another book on the side. Only Anne was scrumptiously writing every word down, eager to know what was coming, sometimes making up in her mind what would come next.

Suddenly, Mr. Philipps slammed his wooden rod on the table, making everyone jump in fright. "Is this a joke to you?" he asked very calmly. "School isn't over yet." He paused and looked at all his students, trying to make terrifying eye contact. But everyone was looking away. Out the window mostly.

Anne knew he had lost all of them. It was no use, and he was slowly losing his calm. At least she had written everything he had dictated. If he took the papers now, she would be safe. And the best, of course. Even better than Gil- _him_. She smirked when she saw his blank paper. Was he serious, right now?

Mr. Philipps walked down the aisle and took the papers. He was getting redder by the second as he realized no one – but Anne – hadn't written anything at all. He got so angry that he scrunched the papers in one big ball of paper and threw it out the window. "Get the hell out of here," he said barely above a whisper.

No one moved.

"Did I stutter?" he asked them, red to the face. "Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here!" he bellowed, pausing after every word.

Anne and the others gathered their books, slates, and chalks and scrambled to their feet before Mr. Philipps changed his mind. As soon as they were outside, they whooped and cheered and threw their hats in the air.

"Shush!" Gilbert said. "Let's go celebrate somewhere else! Before Mr. Philipps changes his mind."

The kids all followed Gilbert and the other boys, and Anne wondered where they were going. She kept looking around her for clues, but she didn't know this area of the island.

"Diana, where are we going?" Anne asked, realizing she hadn't let go of Diana's hand since they had left the school.

"I don't know," she replied. "I've never been down this trail."

"I think we're going to the beach," Cole said, catching up with them. He had been walking behind the girls and heard their conversation.

"The beach?" Anne said. "Oh, how romantical! I've never been to the beach!"

Diana laughed. "Really?" She giggled. "I usually spend a few weeks each summer at my great Aunt's summer house, which is practically on the beach."

"Oh, Diana," Anne breathed in wonder. "A summer house on the beach. I can only imagine what it would be like!" She closed her eyes, trying to imagine it, but stumbled on a rock. Cole caught her just before she fell.

"Uh, thanks," she said, flustered.

Cole chuckled. "We're almost there, I think." He took a deep breath. "Can you smell that?"

Anne breathed in too. "What is it?"

"Freedom," Cole said.

Diana rolled her eyes. "No, it's just the sand and salt and seagulls. He's right, though. We're almost there." She paused. "Can you hear it?"

Anne froze and listened intently. She could hear crashing noises coming at regular intervals. There were big white birds in the sky, squawking in circles above them. And then the yells and happy shouts of the boys already on the beach.

Anne and the others at the back of the group arrived at the top of the small cliff. While everyone followed the small path down the sandy beach, Anne just stood there, gazing at the horizon. She had already seen the ocean, of course. But never had she come this close to dipping her toes in the water and the sand. A thrill went through her body and she couldn't contain her joy any longer. She fell on her knees, closed her eyes, and just felt a prayer in her soul and bones. It was so peaceful.

Until squealing shouts came from below and she suddenly came back to reality again.

"You ready to go, Anne?" Cole asked, waiting for her a few meters away, giving her the privacy to experiment the beach for the first time in her life.

"Yes, I'm ready," she said.

Cole went first down the steep path, making sure to be there for Anne if she slipped or fell. Of course, Anne didn't really register his chivalry, the excitement was too high, but she did thank him briefly when they got to the bottom. She looked up the cliff.

"Are we going to climb up there, later?" she asked.

Cole looked up. "I'm afraid so, yes."

Anne chuckled nervously and then they both headed towards the group of kids already playing around. Billy and Charlie had brought a ball to kick around, and the girls were already taking off their shoes and stockings to dig their toes in the warm sand. Summer was beginning.  
Anne ignored everyone and everything. She dropped her books, her shoes, and her stockings in the sand and headed for the water. She wasn't going to go in the waves since she couldn't even swim in the first place. But she just wanted to feel the chilly water on her toes, her feet, and her calves. She stopped on the dry sand and watched as the waves lapped at the beach. When the water retreated, she took a step forward and waited for the next wave to come on the shore. It didn't take long. The chilly wave came lapping at her toes and she gasped at the cold. Of course, it wouldn't be as warm as in the south, but it was amazing. She took another step forward, and each time a wave came ashore, it lapped at her legs higher and higher until she had water to her knees, and she was holding her dress above the water.

"Anne!" someone called from the beach, but it felt like so far away. She turned around and realized how far she actually was. The slope in the water wasn't steep at all, and she could go on further for miles, it seemed until she'd have water to her shoulders.

"Anne, come back!"

Behind her, she heard someone splashing through the water quickly, coming towards her. It was Gilbert. Of course, it would be him, intervening in her watery bliss.

Anne continued to walk away from the shore, but her foot suddenly went down, much lower than the ground she was used to. She gasped but couldn't breathe. Water was everywhere and she didn't know where was up and where was down.

"_I'm drowning_," she thought. She calmed her frantic movements and was careful to register everything around her. Drowning was a life experience she had always wanted to go through.

A strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the water, pulling her back, away from the steep, sandy slope.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you breathe?" Gilbert asked her, worry painted all over his face.

Anne grinned. "It was amazing! I was drowning and I could have died!"

Gilbert was clearly confused at her odd statement.

"Come on, let's get you out of the water." Gilbert half pulled, half carried her out, while

everyone was watching them.

Once on dry land again, Anne started to shiver. There was a chilly wind coming from the ocean, and the sun was on the other side of the cliffs, so the whole beach was behind the cliffs. The sun would come later in the afternoon.

"Here, sit down on this rock," he gently ordered her, making sure she didn't fall off from trembling so hard. He put his own jacket over her shoulders, even though he knew she should have taken off her wet clothes to dry faster.

Anne watched the other kids play around. The boys kicked the ball around or tried to impress the girls, and the girls giggled among themselves about the boys. Cole stayed on the side, not mingling with either group. After some time, he came to check on Anne, even though Gilbert kept an eye on her from afar.

"How are you feeling, Anne?" Coke asked, coming over.

"F-f-fine," she tried replying, her teeth chattering.

Cole frowned and put a hand on her forehead. She didn't have a fever, but she wasn't getting any warmer. "I'll be right back," he said and made a beeline to Gilbert, who was kicking the ball with the other boys. His pants and shirt were drying as he was moving around.  
Anne watched them talk, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. The two boys looked at her from their spot on the beach. Then they both came over. Anne couldn't move from her rock since her trembling was becoming stronger by the minute.

"Anne?" Gilbert said, putting his hand on her forehead.

"I'm f-f-fine," she said. "L-leave m-me alo-one."

Gilbert shook his head. "No, you're not fine. I'm taking you home." He helped her up and he looked at the steep path up the cliff.

"I'll help you up there," Cole said, looking the same way as Gilbert.

"I'm f-fine," Anne said, still shivering and trying to get out of Gilbert's grasp on her arm.

"I can w-walk on my o-own."

"Not up the cliff, Anne," Cole said.

The two boys managed to get her between them, and they arrived at the top, not too soon in their opinion.

"I'll take Anne home, Cole," Gilbert said. "Thanks."

Cole nodded and watched Anne and Gilbert walk away.

Anne was still wrapped in Gilbert's jacket, her dress was still wet, and so was her hair. She undid her braids to help her hair dry, but she was still shivering. She could hear her own teeth chattering, resonating in her skull. More than once she wriggled herself out of his grasp, so he knew not to touch her, only to leave his hand hovering behind her back in case she stumbled.

The walk was a long one all the way to Green Gables. And more than once Anne tripped on a stone or slipped on the dirt. Each time, strong arms caught her and held her up. Her mind was getting fuzzier as they walked, and by the time they had reached Green Gables, Anne was shivering with a fever and could barely stand on her two feet. Gilbert was half carrying her when Marilla Cuthbert saw them coming and ran towards them.

"Good God, Gilbert," she said, quite horrified. "What happened?" But before Gilbert could reply anything, Marilla shouted for Matthew to come from the Barn and he carried Anne inside.

Anne's head bobbed against his shoulder, and everything blurred together. The noises, the colors, the smells. She couldn't say what was up and what was down, again.

She felt like she was drowning again, and she closed her eyes, abandoning her soul to the waves around her.

* * *

_**Hi again, thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter ;) let me know what you thought of it!**_

_**see you soon!**_


	8. 8 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 8 – Gilbert Blythe**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, Green Gables. June 1896._**

During the whole way to Green Gables making sure Anne wouldn't collapse on the ground, Gilbert could think of only one thing: "Marilla Cuthbert is going to kill me."

He wasn't wrong.

He wasn't entirely right either, though. Marilla didn't outright kill him. But once Matthew had Anne in his arms and they were safely inside with her, Gilbert stayed outside the door. He couldn't hear anything from where he was, but he didn't go away. He sat on the porch steps and waited.

His shirt and pants had dried a long time ago and he wasn't cold. He wrung his hat in his hands, praying that Anne would be okay. He mentally kicked himself for letting her go this far. He should have stopped her sooner. If something happened to her now, he would take the blame entirely.

He sighed and waited. The noises at Green Gables were very different from the ones at home. There were horses, goats, and cows, here. Not the leafy noises, with the wind dancing in the orchard trees.

The door behind him was still open, but he still didn't go in. He hadn't been invited inside, and he wasn't going to impose on them. Especially if he was risking his life with Marilla, there. Ever since Anne had come to Avonlea, he had seen Marilla change from an old grumpy woman to a loving grand-motherly figure for Anne. He had seen people change after meeting Anne.

Even he had changed. At least he hoped he had.

He heard steps behind him and turned around. He stood when he saw Marilla.

"How is she?" he asked, mustering the courage to face the woman.

"She's fine," Marilla said, sitting on the stairs where Gilbert was sitting a minute ago.

"Just a little shaken. What happened?" She asked him briskly. Gilbert sat next to the older lady. "She kept blabbering about drowning, thrilling, and waves." She paused. "You were in school, weren't you?"

Gilbert gulped and wrung his hat tighter. "Not really," he replied. "Mr. Philipps got angry at us for looking out the windows, released us before lunch, and told us to get the hell out of there. So we ran away from our last day of school."

Marilla frowned. "How unprofessional of him. You were all under his responsibility. Where do you go?"

"The beach," Gilbert replied, not making eye contact. "We all stayed on the sand. Except for her. I swear I kept an eye on her, Miss Cuthbert. She was just standing at the edge of the water, dipping her toes in the waves. She took a step in and then continued to go in until she had water to her knees." He paused, taking a breath. "That's when I remembered the slope went suddenly steep, and that she was getting closer to the end of the flat surface."

Again, he paused. He took a deep breath to continue his tale but didn't.

"Go on," Marilla urged him.

Gilbert shook himself from the memory and continued. "I called after her, told her to come back. She ignored me and just went in. I don't even know if she heard me. That's when I decided to go in after her. I ran as fast as I could in the icy water and suddenly she was gone. She was underwater so long I was afraid I wouldn't find her." Gilbert shivered. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Cuthbert. I should have acted sooner."

"You're both safe, Gilbert," she said a little reluctantly. "What happened next?"

So Gilbert told her how he practically walked into her and pulled her out of the water and to the beach, and how he and Cole kept a close eye on her for some time until he decided to bring her home.

Marilla Cuthbert sighed and looked ahead of her, at the road leaving Green Gables. "You did well, Gilbert," she said. "But remember this about Anne: she's a novice to this world, yet she's seen so much more than we can imagine." She paused. "She's stronger than we think, yet she is still a young child in many ways."

"I'll keep a better eye on her, Ms. Cuthbert. I promise," Gilbert said solemnly.

Marilla let out a humorless chuckle. "I don't doubt it one second. But don't ever let her know you're doing it. She needs to grow on her own."

Gilbert smiled and looked at his shoes. Yes, this girl was something special, all right. "Can I come back tomorrow to see how she's doing?"

"You may," Marilla said. "Now go back to your father, Gilbert."

"Yes ma'am," he said standing up and putting on his hat. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
Marilla nodded and Gilbert walked away, his feet dragging in the red Avonlea soil. This whole day had exhausted him and he was ready to slip in bed and fall asleep for twenty-four hours. Only, he still had chores to do, and his father to keep company.

~.~.~

The next day, on the first day of summer vacation, he woke up at nine with a knock on the front door. His father wouldn't open it, and he was afraid it was Ms. Cuthbert calling him because Anne was worse than yesterday. He quickly put in a pair of pants and a shirt that was lying on his chair and ran down the stairs.

Only, it was not Marilla at the door. It was the postman. Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good morning, Mr. Blythe," he said. "There's a letter for you."

"Thank you," he replied.

"Good day, sir."

"Good day.

Gilbert looked at the expeditor address on the envelope. It was his doctor friend to whom he had sent a letter to, earlier that month. Maybe he did have answers.  
Before opening the letter, though, he put some water to boil for breakfast and sat at the kitchen table. He delicately opened the envelope and took out the letter inside. The penmanship looked like some kind of chicken scrawl, but he could still read it.

~  
_Dear Gilbert,_

_Thank you for your letter. Your inquiry was very interesting indeed. I've asked some other friends in the medical field about this, and only one had information about it. It is called _dyscalculia_ and can be found in any person, smart or not._

_Now, from what you said about your friend Anne and from what I understand, she seems to be a bright girl. Letters and words don't bother her, but numbers do. What you did with the pies was an excellent idea and an excellent start. What you can do is translate math into everyday life, and above all, make her focus on one problem at a time. Hide part of the paper so her eyes and mind stay on that one problem. It might help._

_It might also help to tell her about this, she will make necessary arrangements on her own once she understood the problem. _

_I hope I've given you enough to work with, Gilbert. Please pass on my hello to your father, I hope he is well._

_Best regards,_

_Dr. Benjamin Walkers._

Gilbert smiled. He knew now that Anne could be helped and he would do it. But with the beginning of summer, he would be working in the orchard, making sure the trees and tools would be ready for the harvest, in the fall.

He folded the letter and put it inside his pocket before getting breakfast ready for him and his father. He poured some boiling water in a teapot, put four eggs in the remaining water, toasted some bread, and spread jam on the toasts for his father. When everything was ready, he took a tray to his father's room. He opened the door with his elbow, put the tray on the desk, and opened the curtains.

"Good morning, father." They ate their breakfast together, chatted some about the letter he had received.

"What are you going to do this summer?" his father asked at some point. "You need to find yourself an internship, or a job somewhere." He coughed. "End of school is in a couple of years. What are you going to do next?"

Gilbert finished his tea. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I always feel like I have the time, but time flies." He shrugged. "I want to stay around this year. Spend some time with you." For some unknown reason, Gilbert felt like this was the last summer he would spend with his dad, and he wanted to enjoy all the time he had with him.

When his chores were done and he made sure his father had everything he needed while he was gone, Gilbert went to the stable and saddled his horse, Charlie. He could walk to Green Gables, but it was a beautiful day for a ride. It took him less than usual to prep the horse, and he swung his leg over the saddle and rode to Green Gables. The window of her room was opened, the gauzy white curtains flowing outside in the light breeze. He smiled.

He tied his horse to the tree outside the house, the one just under her room, and he walked up to the porch, where he knocked on the teal-colored door.

"Ah, Gilbert," Marilla said when she opened the door. "I wondered when you would come, today."

"Well, here I am," he said, awkwardly, taking off his hat. "May I see Anne?"

"You may," Marilla said, stepping aside and letting him inside. Gilbert instantly recognized the smell, when he walked in: honey buns. His mother used to make them when he was little. A tiny pinch to his heart surprised him, but he quickly contained himself.

"She's upstairs, at the end of the hall, to the right," Marilla said. "Oh, and don't leave before these buns had time to bake. You're taking some home with you."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," he said, excited to be biting in one of the little loaves of bread soon. He headed towards the stairs, careful not to climb them two by two in his eagerness, and found Anne's room quickly: the door was slightly ajar and the summer breeze was coming through the open window. He walked down the wooden floor, trying not to make it creak, and stopped in front of her door. He knocked.

"Cob'id?" Anne said from inside, which he roughly translated at 'Come in' said with a cloggy nose.

He smirked and pushed the door open. "Hi," he said.

Anne looked up from her book – Jane Eyre, no doubt – she was reading. "Oh, it's you," she said. "I was hopi'g it would be Diada."

"Nope, just me," he said. He noticed how she had multiple blankets over her. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

Anne shrugged and put her book down, without forgetting to mark the page. "I don't have pdeubonia, if it's what you're thinki'g."

"That's good," he replied. "Pneumonia is awful. Just a cold, then?"

"Yeah. Barilla said I was id shock yesterday. But dothi'gs wrong," she said. She couldn't pronounce the Ms and Ns correctly, and replaced them with Bs and Ds. But once Gilbert figured that out, it was easier to understand her.

He sat there, not really knowing what to say. He couldn't just come up with the letter he had received that morning. School was over for the summer, and maybe she didn't want to hear about mathematics and numbers until September. Or maybe she'd like to catch up before school started again? No. it was too soon. This was the first day of the summer holidays!

"Thanks," she blurted out, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"For yesterday," she continued.

"Oh. Uhm, yeah, you're welcome. But I'm sorry I didn't come sooner and–"

"Donsedse," she said. "That was the bost incredible dear-death experience I've ever had, and I'b glad I'b alive to actually tell the tale." She smirked. "Sobeday, I'll write a real book and that'll go id there. That's for sure."

Gilbert smiled. He was not going to talk to her about mathematics just yet. "I'd read whatever you write, so start writing."

Anne laughed and then sneezed. He gave her his handkerchief and she blew her nose in it. "Sorry about that," she said, looking at the ruined kerchief.

"You can keep it," he said awkwardly, and they both chuckled. "So, what did doctor Marilla say? How long do you have to keep to your bed?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because it's summer vacation, and there are lots of things on Prince Edward Island you need to see," he said.

Anne snorted through her clogged nose, which wasn't pretty. She blew her nose again in Gilbert's kerchief. "Why? You want to be by tourist guide?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Why not? I've lived here all my life, I know the island really well."

Anne leaned back on her pillow, considering. "It could be quite the adventure," she conceded. "What would you want id returd? Cookies?"

Gilbert didn't know if he was supposed to be offended or not. Did she really think he would offer his services against payment? She had already managed to get him to accept payment for his help with mathematics. Now, this? No. "No, I'd just like to get to know you better. I can even teach you how to ride and all."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Sou'ds te'pting. But I'm dot letting you do that for free."

Gilbert shook his head. "What about you just let a friend show you around? After our chores are done of course, and I still need to be home for my father. But we could still do it from time to time."

Anne looked outside. She did want to get out, explore, go on an adventure. And Gilbert knew that. "Okay," she said. "Let's do this."

* * *

_**Hiii! sorry for the long wait! but happy new year ;)**_

_**thanks for stopping by, reading, and taking the time to review ;)**_

_**I hope you liked this POV of Gilbert. Oh, and try reading Anne's cloggy nose replies while pinching your nose. It helps xD**_


	9. 9 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 9 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. July 1896._**

In the second week of July, which was also the second week of the summer holidays, Anne woke up at dawn, perfectly rested and ready to start the day. This was the first day where Gilbert Blythe was free to show her around, and she couldn't wait for the adventure. Not that she particularly was looking forward to spending time with him, but he had saved her life and she decided she owed it to him to try to be nice to him. Right?

But what she was looking forward to the most was seeing new places. Smelling new flowers! Touching new trees! Tasting new berries! Hearing new sounds!

She kicked the covers away, put on her Sunday dress, slipped on her small boots, braided her braids in two perfectly identical plaits, and cleaned her face with some clear icy cold water from the well.

She went to the chicken pen to pick up the fresh eggs.

"Hello, ladies," she said to the four hens already up and about. "Here's your breakfast, some nice yellow corn. I hope you'll like it." The yellow grain fell to the ground among the stray hay and the chickens ran for it. "There," Anne said. "Now don't mind me, I'm just going to get your eggs. For my breakfast. A fair trade, don't you think?" She searched for the white and brown eggs in the hay in each nest, delicately put them in her basket and walked out. The hens didn't notice anything. Or if they did, they didn't say anything.

Just behind the fence surrounding Green Gables, the field was full of colorful wildflowers. Anne put her basket aside and went through the high grass to pick some flowers. She mainly chose white blossoms with a pink one here and there, all while humming a tune she was making up as she went.

When she couldn't hold any more flowers in her hand, Anne skipped back to the house, her egg basket in one hand, and the bouquet in the other. She sat on the porch and started weaving a flower crown, still while humming.

"Today, I am the bride of Adventure. The flowers on my head will hold my veil into place." She undid her braids and let her fiery red hair fall down her back: her veil. She put on the flower crown on her head and went inside, a smile of utter content on her face.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," Marilla said when she saw the girl. "What in Heaven's sake is this?" She pointed at... well, all of Anne. "This is your Sunday dress. Go change at once."

"But Marilla!" Anne replied. "I'm the bride of Adventure, today. I need to wear this dress!"

"No." Marilla's tone was final. "Wear your plain brown dress for whatever you have planned today." She shook her head in dismay and went on about her breakfast chores.

Anne didn't have a choice. She went back upstairs to her room and slowly took off her teal blue Sunday dress to change into her plain, ordinary, brown dress. What was the use of being the bride of Adventure if you couldn't even be as beautiful as a bride? Not that Anne thought she was beautiful, no. But wearing a nice dress helped one's self-confidence. She kept her hair down and took the flower crown in her hand and went back downstairs. The bright and happy smile was gone by the time Anne sat at the breakfast table with food in front of her.

"Eat your breakfast, Anne," Marilla said. "Gilbert Blythe will be here any minute, now." She went to the kitchen and came back with a fabric wrapped bundle. "This is your and Gilbert's lunch," she said. "Don't forget to pack it."

Anne nodded without a word and ate half-heartedly her toast and eggs.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Anne didn't move from her spot, so Marilla went to open the door.

"Gilbert Blythe," Anne heard Marilla say. "Do come in. Anne is almost ready."

"Thank you, Miss Cuthbert."

Anne looked up at Gilbert who had just entered the kitchen. He was wearing the simplest pants, shirt, and vest. "Hello, Anne," he said. "It's good to see you."

"Hello, Gilbert," she replied. She finished her tea quickly, burning her tongue in the process. She then stood, put the packed lunch in her bag, said goodbye to Marilla and went outside, followed closely behind by Gilbert.

His horse was waiting outside, attached to the tree.

"I see you took Charcoal with you," Anne said. "I'm taking Belle. Matthew had her saddled for me this morning before leaving. She's in the barn."

The two teenagers headed for the barn and Belle welcomed Anne with a loud neighing, stamping in the hay.

"Hello Belle," Anne said. She held out a bright red apple in the palm of her hand and the mare grabbed it between her teeth.

"You found the trick," Gilbert said from behind, chuckling. "Give them food and they'll love you forever."

Anne didn't even turn around. "She loves me even without food."

Gilbert laughed but didn't say anything about that. "You know how to climb on a horse?" he asked.

Anne huffed. "Of course, I do." But truth be told, she had never done it before. And she wasn't going to let him help her.

"Okay," he replied, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm just asking." He stood aside and watched Anne, which made her very uncomfortable. Her petite thirteen-year-old stature made it impossible for her to even take hold of the pommel on Belle's saddle. She looked around her. Maybe if she could just find something to climb on she could –

"You've never done that, have you?" he asked softly. Anne was surprised not to find any mockery or judgment in his voice.

"No, I haven't." There, she had admitted it. But Gilbert was not moving from his spot, on the side. "Can you..." she trailed off and took a deep breath. This was asking her more energy than she thought it would. "Can you help me?" she asked quickly. "Please?"

From the corner of her eye, Gilbert smiled. "Yes, I can." He walked over and intertwined his fingers together, making a step for her to climb on. "Here. Put your left foot on my hands and swing your right one over the saddle."

Anne obeyed. She put her foot in his hands and pulled herself on the saddle, swinging her second foot at the same time. She made a little noise of exclamation and couldn't quite erase the smile growing on her face.

"Hey, what are doing?" Anne asked when she felt Gilbert touching her foot.

"Checking the length of the stirrup," he said. "Your knee needs to bend at just the right angle." When the first stirrup was done, he went to the other side and did the same thing.

"There, all set." He took a few steps back, looking at her.

Anne took the reins in her hands and Belle's head snapped up.

"Loosen your hands, Anne," he said. "Your horse needs some space to be free. But keep your hands firm, nonetheless.

Anne nodded and did as he said. She was never going to admit out loud that he was better than her at this. Gilbert headed outside.

"Come on," he called out. "Show me what you've got, Anne."

Anne took a deep breath and tried to relax in her high seating position. "Okay, I can do this," she muttered to herself. "Belle, march!"

But Belle didn't move.

"Come on, Belle! You can do it!"

Anne was growing desperate, and she saw Gilbert poking his head through the large barn door.

"Everything alright?"

"Belle won't move."

Gilbert suppressed a smile. "Give her a little nudge in the hides." Anne obeyed, but she had afraid to hurt the brown mare. "Harder," he said. "She has thick skin, you need to dig a bit deeper."

Anne nudged harder and this time, Belle moved forward and followed Gilbert outside. Anne rode the mare with Gilbert walking beside her. Charlie was still attached to the tree under her window. During the short trip from the barn to the tree, Gilbert corrected Anne's riding, telling her how to get better. By the time they had reached Charlie, Anne could more or less ride on her own.

"Alright," Gilbert said, smiling. "Shall we?"

Anne nodded and followed Gilbert on the Green Gables path, through the open gate – Gilbert quickly jumped off Charlie to close the gate and climbed back on his horse – and they were on their way. They walked side by side in silence.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently. "You're very silent."

Anne laughed nervously. "Yes, well it's taking all of my energy not to fall off Belle," she replied.

Gilbert smirked. "Relax, Anne. She can feel if you're tense. If you relax, she'll relax too. Take a deep breath, roll your shoulders a bit and untighten your hands on the reins." Anne tried to do as he told her. "Good! See? It's not that hard."

After that, riding was easier and Anne's tongue loosened up. She started talking, describing everything she saw around her as if she was describing the world to a blind man. Gilbert nodded, agreed along, and making comments of his own. As time went by, Anne found it easy to talk to Gilbert. She had always judged him as a stuck-up nerdy boy, but he was as imaginative as her.

Almost.

"Alright," he said lightly pulling the reins of Charlie. "This is our first stop. The Eastern Cliffs of Prince Edward Island." He breathed a sigh of content and smiled. "It's actually my favorite place on the whole Island."

Anne looked at the blue horizon, breathed in deeply, and listened intently. Yes, she could hear the waves crashing on the rocks, down below. What power! And the seagull shrieks above them. She listened some more and could also hear the wind in the tall grass around them, something she had not heard while riding. But now all these noises made sense, and she could fully understand why this was his favorite place.

It might as well be hers, too.

"This place is scrumptiously wonderful!" she exclaimed, the smile broad on her face. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Gilbert was staring at her. She decided to ignore that detail for now.

After stopping at the cliffs, Anne and Gilbert rode along the cliffs, with the ocean to their right and the wavy grass fields to their left. The wind was blowing against them, and Anne was glad she didn't have her hair in her face. Her flower crown had been blown away sometime before and she let go of the idea of wearing one at all with all this wind.

"I like your hair undone," Gilbert said, out of the blue.

Anne's mood dropped fast at the statement. She hated her red hair and had not let them down for Gilbert, but for the sake of having a veil. She was the bride of Adventure, that day, after all. She didn't reply to his compliment and shrugged.

After riding like that for some time, Gilbert suggested their veer left, inland. Anne followed reluctantly, but after some time, she realized that he was leading her to another beautiful place.

"Barry's Pond," he said. "The largest pond on the island."

Anne recognized the place at once. She had passed through here with Matthew when first coming to Avonlea and Green Gables.

"No," she said with a dreamy air to her. "The Lake of Shining Waters." She smiled.

The sun was making the small ripples on the pond shine like a million-faceted diamond. A flock of geese flew low above the pond and Anne suddenly remembered something she had read in a book once.

"Did you know that geese mate for life? If one of them dies, the other dies of sorrow and loneliness soon after." Then looking at her traveling companion, she realized she had said that to none other than Gilbert Blythe himself. Heat crept in her already flushed cheeks.  
Gilbert nodded. "I knew that. Swans also mate for life, but you won't find them on Prince Edward Island."

Anne sighed, relieved. She had suddenly been afraid he would take her statement as an invitation for more.

Gilbert nudged Charlie in the hides and urged them to go further to another nice place. They ended up going through the White Way of Delight and stopped in a little meadow for their picnic. Anne peppered Gilbert with questions about Prince Edward Island, it's history, the flowers that grew there, and how one could leave this marvelous place.

Until there was a _crack_ not far away and Anne and Gilbert jumped and turned around. Behind a group of trees, four teenagers appeared. Long black hair, braids, beads, feathers.

Gilbert stood in front of Anne, making a barrier between her and the intruders. _Savages_.

"Hi, I'm Anne," she said, walking around Gilbert and holding out her hand for the oldest girl to shake.

* * *

_**Hello to all the new readers and followers! thanks for taking the time to read (and review)! I really appreciate it!**_

_**I hope you liked this chapter! Yes, Anne is stubborn, but she loves to discover new things... and new people! **_

_**See you soon for Gilbert's POV ;)**_


	10. 10 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 10 – Gilbert Blythe**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. July 1896. _**

What on Earth was she doing, introducing herself to the savages! Gilbert thought as Anne walked around him and said her name. He should have seen that coming. If something happened to her, Marilla would surely kill him this time.

"Anne," he hissed. "What are you doing?"

But she was ignoring him.

The oldest Savage girl smiled at Anne. "My name is Ka'kwet," she said. And Gilbert was as surprised as Anne.

"You can speak English!" Anne exclaimed. "How marvelous!" And before Gilbert could stop her, Anne was talking to the girl as if she had known her for years.

"I'm Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and this is my f– a boy from my class, Gilbert Blythe."

Gilbert was surprised at how much that change of word had hurt him. It was like a stab to the heart. He had been nothing but kind and loving and friendly to her, and she didn't even call him her friend? Just _a boy from her class_?

Suddenly, he just didn't really care about his outing with Anne. It was supposed to be just him and her. And he had chosen to stay away from his father, when he was not doing any better, just to be with the fire headed girl. But clearly, she didn't really care about him as he did about her. And hearing her say it hurt more than he had anticipated.

"Come on, Anne. Let's go home," he said briskly. He headed to the two horses grazing nearby and lead them to the meadow. Anne was still talking with the Savage children, all smiles and laughter. He shook his head and mounted his black stallion. "Anne, come on," he said again.

Anne turned her head around and saw him on his horse. "But they just got here," she said.

"I know," he replied, trying not to show his irritation in his voice. "But we still have a long way to go and Marilla wants us home before nightfall." This wasn't an outright lie, Marilla had never said such a thing. Although he knew she would want Anne home before the night.  
Anne, oblivious to his hurt feelings, said goodbye to the girl named Ka'kwet, hugged her, and waved as she headed to her own horse. Gilbert handed her the reins and he pushed his horse a little faster than usual, wanting to be away from the Savages as quickly as possible.

He was silent, staying ahead of Anne.

"Gilbert, is everything okay?" she called out from behind him. She was afraid to hurt Belle, so she didn't push her faster.

"Yes, everything is fine," he replied without looking at her. Behind her, he heard Anne breathe a sigh. Relief? Content? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

They rode in silence for some time. Well, he rode in silence. Anne was just talking without stopping, telling him all that she had learned in the short time with the other children in the meadow.

"... and then she said that they didn't go to school. Can you imagine that? So they don't even know how to read and write," she continued. "Most of them don't know English, out of all the children today, Ka'kwet was the only one who could speak English and..."

It was a whirlwind of words and Gilbert tried not to listen too much.

"Gilbert, are you listening to me?" she suddenly asked. "Gilbert."

He nodded. "Yes, I'm listening."

"Alright, good," she said. "So, then she told me that..."

And on and on it went. Gilbert nodded and offered small signs that he was listening and paying attention, but truly, he was waiting for small pauses to nod. Until Green Gables was in view and Gilbert decided not to escort her all the way to the farm. Anne knew the way.

"I have to go back home to check on my father," he said. Which was true. Had the incident with the savages in the meadow not happened, he would have escorted her to the barn, helped her clean Belle, and gone inside, where he knew Marilla would be waiting with freshly baked goods.

"Alright," Anne had said. "Please say hello to your father for me!" She smiled at him and directed Belle to the barn.

But now he wanted none of that. He only wanted to get home. His heart was aching. He pushed Charlie faster, and was home before long. He stayed some time in his barn, cleaning the stallion and putting him back in his small paddock behind the house, and thinking about all that had happened since this morning.

He had really enjoyed every minute of it. Until _it_ happened.

He shook his head, trying to keep the feelings gnawing at him. His horse would feel the angry strokes in his mane or on his flanks. So Gilbert forced himself to calm down. He was only fifteen years old. He had a whole life ahead of him. Enough time to find love.

Real love.

This was just some teenage infatuation. It would soon go away. If he stayed ling enough away, it would go away, too. Wasn't there something that said _out of sight, out of mind_?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving the last brush strokes to Charcoal.  
"Gilbert?" his father weakly called out the minute he stepped inside the house.

"Yes?" he replied, walking faster. He pushed the door open and saw his father even more pale than usual in his bed. Despite the summer heat coming in from the open window, he was shivering and sweating at the same time. "Dad, are you okay?" No, obviously he was not.

"I'm okay," he said instead. "Tell me about your day, son."

Gilbert sat on the side of the bed, taking his father's cold hand in his. Somewhere deep down in his heart, he knew this was soon going to be the end. So he tried to keep his answer happy, and devoid of all his earlier feelings of hurt and anger.

"It was really great," he started. "We went it see the cliffs, the Lake of Shining Waters– I mean, Barry's Pond, and then I took her to the meadow. You know the one where we used to go on picnics with mother?"

John Blythe smiled. Good memories, those ones. He coughed a little. "What about Anne? Tell me about her. Please."

Gilbert squeezed his hand and nodded. "She talks a lot," he said with a chuckle. "She has the greenest eyes I've ever seen. And they're full of curiosity and wonder." He paused.

"Marilla's used to be like that, you know?" John said. "Before she lost her mother and brother. She was just like you described Anne." He coughed. "Full of curiosity and wonder." He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, reminiscing.

He was silent for so long, Gilbert thought he had fallen asleep. He delicately took out his hand from his father's, which made him stir.

"Don't make the same mistake I did, son. Tell her how you feel and never let her go."

"Who?" Gilbert asked. But John was silent again. It was the last thing he ever said to his son.

"Dad?" Gilbert felt his father's hand go limp. "Dad!" Even though he knew his father couldn't hear him anymore, he still called to him. "Dad, please don't–" a choke cut him in the middle of his sentence. "Please don't die! I wasn't finished telling you about..." He trailed off. Tears blurred his vision and he closed his eyes, making them stream down his cheeks. A sob shook his shoulders and he cried for the first time in many, many months.

~.~.~

"And now," the minister was saying, "we entrust his body to the ground. From ashes, we go back to ashes. Back whence we came." He paused, then cleared his throat. "Amen."

"Amen," the congregation murmured in reply. One by one, the people walked away, gently laying a hand on Gilbert's arm as they headed for the house, where food was waiting.  
Gilbert didn't register who was there or what they said to him. Everything was numb around him. His eyes were dry and he simply stared at the hole in the ground where four men had lowered his father's coffin. He didn't even notice he was alone, now. Everyone was back inside, talking in hushed tones. But he didn't want to go inside.

Instead, he sat on the stone bench, his back to the house, and lifted his eyes to the clear blue sky. If only the weather could match his sorrowful heart. The sun seemed to be too happy right now.

He let out a single sad chuckle. Since when was he thinking like Anne, who gave a personality to everything around her? He shook his head and felt a wet drop fall on his hand. He was crying again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and took a deep, shaky breath.

"It's going to be alright, you know?" a very familiar voice said behind him. He didn't turn around and Anne sat on the bench next to him. "I lost my parents, too. Being an orphan is not so bad, really." She shrugged.

Gilbert shook his head again. She had no idea how she was not helping right now.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I need to go." And without even waiting for a reply, he stood and left, leaving Anne alone on the bench. He needed to be alone right now.

Gilbert walked without stopping. It would have taken less time had he ridden Charlie, but the exercise was good for him, to be honest. It took his mind off of things. He walked and walked until he arrived at his favorite place of the whole Island: the cliffs.

The mid-July heat was tampered by a light cool breeze coming from the ocean, and he stood at the edge of the cliff, letting the wind untidy his hair, and cool off his sweating body. He listened for the soothing noise of the crashing waves, down below. Around him, the high grass was dancing like waves. A green sea dotted by white flowers.

Which made him think of Anne.

And just like that, he let all the strain from the previous days wash over him, and he cried. He screamed to the ocean and felt his heart break in a million pieces in his chest. He was surprised at how much it hurt. He fell to his knees and clutched the shirt that felt suddenly too tight and gave himself over to the sobs.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that. But his legs were asleep when he tried to get back up, and he had to help the blood flow down to his feet again before making the long walk back home. Hopefully, everyone at his house would be gone by then.

They were. The house was eerily empty, save for dishes full of the leftovers from the gathering.

"Great," Gilbert muttered under his breath. "They left me the dishes to clean." But then he realized something else. "Oh, and food." He felt another ache in his heart that was going to turn into a sob. He swallowed it back down and cleared his throat, keeping control of his tears, for the moment. He was grateful for the community he was part of. That much was true.

But he was glad everyone had gone back home. He didn't have the strength to make polite conversation with anyone right now. All he wanted to do was crawl in his bed, fall asleep, and never wake up again. Until this week was just a distant memory in the back of his mind.

He would probably be an old man when that happened.

He stared back at the food on the kitchen table. He was hungry, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get anything past his mouth. Grief was taking up too much space in him.

Instead, he headed to the well and pumped two buckets of clear, icy water. Before going to bed, he wanted to clean the sweat from his long walk to the cliffs. He carried the buckets back inside and stripped down to his breeches to clean up. He dipped the rough yellow sponge in the water, rubbed some soap on it and washed his body. It was quick since the water was cold, but he didn't have the time to warm it on the stove. His bed called to him and he wanted to get there as fast as possible.

Once fresh and clean, he slipped under the covers and closed his eyes. He was so exhausted that he was sure he would fall asleep instantly. But sleep eluded him. For hours.

In the middle of the night, he got up, tired of tossing and turning around and shuffled downstairs to sit at the kitchen table. The clock on the wall showed three in the morning.

Suddenly, his belly grumbled loudly, and Gilbert realized that he was actually hungry. Among the leftovers, he found Marilla's famous plum puffs. He took one and ate it. Then a second one and a third one. He finished the entire dish and then took a deep breath.

He was too awake now to go back to bed. After taking out a candle, a new sheet of paper and a pen, he sat down and started a letter. Or at least he tried to. He had to start over three times before he knew what to say.

_'Dear Anne...'_

* * *

_**Hi and thanks again for taking the time to read this!**_

_**I know this was a sad chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Don't worry, we will know soon what Gilbert wrote to Anne...**_

_**Thanks for your reviews on the previous chapter and I can't wait to read what you thought of this one ;) see you soon!**_


	11. 11 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 11 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. August 1896._**

For two weeks, Anne woke up with a smile on her face. She did her chores, helped Marilla or Matthew in theirs, and then went out for the day. She usually met with Diana and the other girls and Cole for some adventure, or she went back to the meadow to meet with Ka'kwet and the other Indian children. They told her about their life, and in exchange, she taught them how to read and write. But of course, she never told Marilla about that, or she would have had a heart attack. She had already been very upset after she had told her about the meadow with Gilbert.

Speaking of Gilbert, Anne realized that she hadn't seen him for a few weeks. And he wasn't either in church on Sundays. Three in a row, to be exact.

But who was counting, right?

So that morning, instead of meeting up with the girls or with Ka'kwet, Anne saddled Belle – she could do that on her own, now – and headed towards the Blythe house. It was a nice ride, the sun was shining, and tiny white clouds littered the blue sky here and there. The breeze made up for the summer heat, and Anne let down her hair to feel the wind in her hair.

When Gilbert's house came into view, Anne felt something was amiss. She stopped Belle and looked at the house in silence. She frowned. The place seemed empty. Deserted. Maybe he was in the orchard tending to his apple trees? She gently kicked Belle's flanks and steered her toward the large orchard behind the house. She rode in the alleys, looking around, and calling for Gilbert. But there was no reply.

After walking the orchard twice with Belle, she headed for the house. She attached Belle to a tree and walked to the porch and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, and still no answer. She went to the back door and knocked again. No answer. She went back to the front door and looked through the window. Everything was dark and there were white sheets over the furniture. She tried the door, but it was locked.

Anne frowned and walked back to Belle. "I don't know where he is," she told Belle. "It's like he vanished into thin air." She mounted the brown mare. "Maybe he went on a vacation." She shrugged and rode back to Green Gables without worrying any further. School was starting in a month, so he would be back by then.

When she arrived at Green Gables, she went directly to the barn and cleaned Belle before putting her back in the paddock. She stopped by the well, pumped some water for Marilla and went inside.

"Diana!" Anne exclaimed when she saw her friend inside. "What are you doing here?"

The two friends hugged quickly.

"My aunt Josephine invited me and my family to a summer soirée in Charlottetown but my parents are both sick with the flue, so I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me. I've told so much about you to my aunt– well, she's actually my father's aunt, but now she wants to meet you. And I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for her to meet you." Diana finally stopped and took a deep breath.

Anne was about to scream of joy to be invited in Charlottetown by a rich lady when Marilla came in from the pantry.

"Absolutely not." She shook her head. "Fiddlesticks. I don't believe one second that your parents are letting you go alone to that summer soirée. It's a place and time for adults. Not children."

"But Marilla–"

"I said _no_, Anne. And that's final."

"Is it because we don't have an escort to Charlottetown?" Anne asked, trying the impossible. "I'm sure we could ask Cole to come with us."

"Oh yes!" Diana said, forgetting her ladylike manners. "Cole can come with us! There are enough rooms at Aunt Jo's for him to stay."

"Hmph," Marilla said. Anne knew she wasn't convinced yet, but she would work on that.

"When is it?" Anne asked Diana.

"In two days. If we leave tomorrow morning at the latest, we can still be there on time."

At the other end of the kitchen, Marilla was silent, preparing lunch.

"Ask Cole," she finally said. "If he can come, then yes. If not, then no."

The two girls grinned and squealed and hugged. Marilla looked at them over her shoulder, rolled her eyes and then went back to work. But there was a tiny curve to her lips that Anne didn't see.

"We're going at Cole's!" Anne said, taking Diana's hand and putting her hat back on her head. They practically ran outside the door and down the path, talking non-stop about what they imagined a summer soiree to be like.

"Imagine all the flowers!" Anne said. "There has to be flowers at a summer soirée, right?"

"And the food!" Diana added. "Piles and piles of food and drinks. Oh! And the music!" She smiled dreamily. "Aunt Jo mentioned in her invitation that there would be a famous pianist to entertain us. A woman!"

"A woman pianist?" Anne repeated, incredulous. "How wonderful!"

And on and on it went, each speculation more incredible than the last, until Cole's house came into view. It was a tiny shabby house that looked so poor and alone in the middle of the fields. Cole's father was a farmer who had trouble having ends meet. At least that's what people were saying.

They stopped in their tracks and stared. It was a lot different from their imaginings of the soirée. Back to reality, really.

Anne was the first one to move, and she pulled Diana towards the house. "Come on, Diana. This is our only ticket to Charlottetown."

Diana nodded and they went on, knocking on the front door. A girl in a dirty dress opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Anne," she said. "Is Cole here?"

The girl nodded and went back inside, leaving the door open, so Anne and Diana walked in after her. The inside of the house was even more miserable than the outside.

"What is this?" a woman asked, coming into the room.

"Good morning," Anne said. "I'm Anne, and this is Diana Barry. We're friends of Cole. we were wondering if we could use his services," she said. Maybe these people needed money and that would convince them. Cole walked out of the room next door.

"Anne? What are you doing here? Diana?" Cole seemed embarrassed about his surroundings.

Anne smiled at him and she and Diana explained why they were here, that they needed to go to Charlottetown to visit Diana's aunt and that they needed an escort.

"Of course, you would be paid for your help," Diana said.

Cole looked at the woman – probably his mother – with pleading eyes.

"How much?" his mother asked.

Diana replied an amount, which seemed to satisfy the woman. She nodded and told Cole to pack and wear his best Sunday clothes. "No need to look like a beggar when escorting two ladies."

Anne flinched at the tone. She hadn't imagined Cole's life to be so miserable at home. No wonder he lost himself in his drawings all the time.

"We'll meet you tomorrow morning at eight o'clock at the train station," Diana said to the boy, and he nodded.

Anne waved. "See you tomorrow, Cole!"

That said, the two girls headed back the same way they had come, parting ways at some point to go to their own homes, pack, and get ready for their next adventure together.  
Anne quietly entered Green Gables and wordlessly helped Marilla set the table for lunch.

She didn't want to seem too happy.

"Well?"

"He's coming with us!" she burst out, the words tumbling out of her mouth for holding them in so long. "I can't wait! We're meeting him tomorrow morning at the train station."

"Hmph," Marilla said.

Then Matthew came in from the barn, washed his hands and noticed Anne grinning to herself.

"Did I miss something?" he asked her.

And Anne told her everything that had happened since Diana came over that morning. He was happy for her and asked to tell him all about it when she came back, and that he would miss her while she was gone.

"Don't encourage her, Matthew," Marilla said. "Now both of you come sit and let's eat."

They obeyed, and as soon as the meal was over and the dishes cleaned and put away, Anne ran to her room to pack.

~.~.~

Anne woke up at dawn, eager to get going. She had barely slept, that night, much too excited to even consider resting. She quickly cleaned herself, put on her traveling dress – she wanted to keep her best dress unscathed for the soirée – braided her hair and went downstairs to start preparing breakfast. Marilla came down a few minutes later while Matthew got the wagon ready with Belle. Then it was time to go and Anne chatted all the way with Matthew. Well, she talked, he listened. As usual.

Diana and Cole were already waiting for her when she arrived with Matthew, and all three train tickets had already been paid, courtesy of Miss Josephine Barry.

"Take good care of the girls, Cole," Matthew said, tapping the boy's shoulder affectionately.

"I will, Mr. Cuthbert." He grinned and all three climbed on the train, but not before Anne hugged Matthew tightly and thanked him for the ride.

They sat at a window, waved at Matthew, and rode away to Charlottetown. There, a buggy was waiting for them at the station and brought them directly to the house.  
When Anne saw the house, she decided that the word 'house' would not do at all. It was a mansion. A palace. She took a deep breath. Never in her life had she seen or been invited to such a grand home.

Just then, the door opened, revealing an old lady dressed in a dark purple gown and walking with an elegant cane.

"My dears," she said, "I'm so glad you could come! Please do come in!"

Diana was the first one up the stairs. She curtsied quickly to the old woman. "This is my friend Anne, the one I told you about," she said.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," Miss Barry said. "What an honor to finally meet you." She took Anne's hands and squeezed them lightly.

"And this is Cole Mackenzie," Diana continued. "Our friend, and escort," she added, emphasizing the last word.

Miss Josephine Barry smirked. "Thank you for escorting these ladies, Mr. Mackenzie."

Cole, overwhelmed by this mansion and all the riches already surrounding them in the entrance hall, bowed awkwardly to the old lady.

"Now come," the lady said. "Charles will show you to your rooms, you shall get ready, and the guests will start arriving in a few hours."

Charles, the butler, led them upstairs – all three of them – and showed them to two neighboring rooms. The girls in one, and Cole in the other.

Anne was as much awed at everything as Cole, and she almost bumped into the wall when she was looking at the carvings and paintings of the ceiling.

"Anne, look where you're going," Diana said, giggling.

"Oh Diana," Anne said in wonder. "This place is so..." She trailed off, looking for the right words. "It is so divine."

Had Diana not been a lady, she would have rolled her eyes. But she just smiled at her friend and gently pulled her in the room. Cole joined them a few minutes later.

"So," he started, not sure about his place in all this. "I don't have anything special to wear. This is already my Sunday suit..."

"We'll find you something to wear," Anne said, confident.

An hour later, all three were ready and they headed downstairs, where guests were already arriving. All were dressed more extravagantly than the last one before them. And the flow of guests didn't seem to stop.

Tall hats, colorful clothes, women dressed in men's suits, men dressed in dresses, people dressed as flowers, birds, or trees.

Anne had never seen anything like it before. Neither did Diana nor Cole, and all three were baffled, awed, and surprised at the same time. This was all so new and unusual, Anne couldn't even find the perfect words to describe it.

_Ding-ding-ding_. A knife on a crystal resonated throughout the colorful crowd. Everyone stopped talking and turned to see who was asking for their attention. It was Miss Josephine Barry, a glass of champagne in her hands.

"Thank you," she said to her guest. "First of all, I would like to welcome you all to this summer soirée. It was always Gertrude's favorite event of the year because it was her birthday." She paused.

"Who's Gertrude?" Anne whispered to Diana.

"Aunt's Jo's bosom friend. She died last year and it has been very hard for her since," Diana whispered back.

"She would be so happy to see you all here tonight," Josephine Barry continued, "so in her honor, let us have fun, and think not about her being gone, but about what she meant to all of us."

Everyone raised their glass.

"To Gertrude," Aunt Josephine said.

"To Gertrude!" Everyone replied and drank their champagne.

"To start the evening, I would like to welcome miss Dorothy McLennan, a world-renown pianist."

A woman in an extravagant but elegant blue dress stepped out of the crowd under a roar of polite applause and headed for the piano. She bowed slightly to the room and sat. She played the first chord, and her fingers ran along the keys, lifting Anne's heart to the sky. She closed her eyes and imagined she was a bird soaring through the clouds, her wings spread wide. It was perfect.

The whole soirée was a blur of poetry, colors, laughter, and friendship. Anne didn't know where to focus and ended up being giddy of happiness.

She lost sight of her friends at some point in the evening, but she knew she would find them later, so she continued to meet with the people around her. It was total bliss.

Some time later, the clock in the hall stroke at three o'clock in the morning, and Anne felt suddenly tired. Some of the guests had already left, but she didn't want to miss a single moment of the party.

"How are you enjoying my _soirée_?" Aunt Jo said, coming up behind Anne.

"Oh, Miss Barry, it's simply splendid!"

"Please, Anne with an E, call me Aunt Jo." Miss Barry smiled, and her eyes crinkled.

"I will, Aunt Jo," Anne replied, and she yawned.

"You should go to bed, dear girl," Aunt Josephine said. "The main party is over, people are just lingering around."

Anne nodded. "Yes, maybe I should." On an impulse, Anne hugged the old lady. "Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Jo."

Josephine Barry was not used to little girls hugging her, but she felt absolutely happy in that moment. "Dear heart, thank _you_ for coming all the way here."

Anne let go of the old lady and headed up the stairs. When she pushed the door to her room, she noticed Diana was already in the giant bed, asleep. She went to see Cole, but he wasn't there. He was probably still at the party, but she hadn't seen him anywhere. She shrugged and headed back to her room. She silently undressed an put her nightgown, almost too excited to sleep.

Almost.

She fell asleep a few minutes later.

~.~.~

After a train ride spent talking non-stop over each other, the three friends arrived in Avonlea, and each went their own way to their family. Cole with a heavier money bag, thanks to Aunt Jo, Diana with confusion in her mind about the whole soirée, and Anne with wonder and flowers in her eyes. She wanted to keep everything to herself and go over it every single day.

When she walked inside Green Gables, Anne put her carpetbag on the floor, hung her hat and jacket near the door and smiled, content.

"I'm home!" she called.

"Hello, Anne," Marilla said from the kitchen. "There's a letter for you," she added. "On the kitchen table."

Anne made a beeline for the letter on the table. Her full new name and her address were written in beautiful cursive. She could have recognized that handwriting anywhere. But she still turned it over to see who it was from.

"It's from Gilbert Blythe," she said.

"Yes," Marilla replied. "It arrived a couple of hours after you left for Charlottetown."

Anne quickly ran up the stairs to her room and closed the door. Not that there was anything romantical about Gilbert Blythe writing her a letter, but she'd rather be alone to read it.

_Avonlea, July 25th, 1896_

_Dear Anne,_

_I've started this letter over four times, so I hope this time it's the one._

_By the time you get this letter, I'll be in Europe already. I booked passage on a ship, working as a coal trimmer to buy my ticket. _

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I knew that if I saw you and told you, I wouldn't have been able to go. After my father's passing, I needed some time alone to figure out what I needed to do with my life. For now, I need to be away from my home, away from Prince Edward Island. I need to see the world and do something else. A change of scenery, if you will._

_I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll be back. I hope. Until then, please don't try to contact me. If I find a place to stay for a few months, I'll write to you again, with an address for you to write me back. I'll be wanting to hear from you._

_I'm sorry, too, that I won't be there when school starts. I was planning on helping you more with mathematics and numbers, but I won't be able to. There is one thing you need to know, nonetheless._

_I wrote to a doctor that I know about you and your hatred of numbers and math, but not of words and letters. He said it's called _dyscalculia_, and that there are ways to help your mind focus on the numbers without them dancing on the page. What we did with the pies was a good start. All you need to do is translate the problems and numbers into everyday objects and problems, and you should be able to figure out how to work them out. Also, try writing only one line of numbers at a time. Hide the rest of the pages with another paper if you have to, but focus on only one._

_I hope this will help you when the time comes._

_And I wish I was there to walk you through it. _

_But alas, I'm far gone, now, and I can only pray for you and hope that you find your way, as I will find mine, and back to you and Avonlea._

_Please give my hello and my thanks to Marilla for everything she's done for me in the past months._

_I miss you already, Anne._

_Your friend,_

_Gilbert Blythe._

* * *

_**Hi! So yeah, thanks for stopping by and reading this chapter! and thanks for your reviews, too ;) I hope you enjoyed! What did you think of Gilbert's letter?**_

_**see you soon!**_


	12. 12 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 12 – Gilbert**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, July 1896._**

When Gilbert was done writing the letter to Anne, he folded it and placed it in an envelope, carefully writing her address at Green Gables, and put it aside. He had many things to do before posting it. He looked around and sighed, silently saying goodbye to the house. For a while at least. Not forever.

He went upstairs and found a suitcase – not too small that he couldn't put more than one outfit in it, but not too big as being impractical on the ship that would take him to Europe – and started packing his belongings. He checked off in his mind what he would need for the voyage, planning on buying things upon his arrival. His father had had savings in the bank, but he didn't take everything. He needed money for when he came back.

When the suitcase was done, he went through his pantry and packed food for the first few days of travel. He would have food on the ship. The rest he couldn't take with him he packed in wooden crates and delivered them to the poor neighborhood, where Jerry Baynard lived. The place was deserted since everyone was either at work or at school, so he left the three crates there, with a note. It was better to do it anonymously. No one needed to know where he was going. He needed to do this on his own. And he was afraid that if someone knew, they might try to convince him to stay, and he probably would.

No, he needed some time away from Avonlea, where he could think clearly and prepare his future.

Whatever that was.

There was just one thing left to do before leaving, which was deciding what to do with Charlie. Should he ride him to the train station and sell it in town? Or should he put it somewhere where a friend would find him and take care of him? If he did the latter, people would know he was gone. But he couldn't part with him.

He went to the barn, saddled the horse and attached his bag at the back of the saddle and mounted him. They walked out of the barn and down the road to the train station. Gilbert looked over his shoulder one last time at the house, his childhood home where he had lost all of his family, and nudged Charlie to go faster. He had a train to catch.

When Gilbert arrived at the train station and attached Charlie to the railing. He went inside,

"Good morning Mr. Blythe," the man behind the counter said.

"Good morning." He came closer. "I'd like to buy a ticket to Charlottetown, please."

"Yes, sir," the man replied. He told him the price and Gilbert paid.

"I need to ask you something," Gilbert said. "It may seem odd, but please bear with me." The man nodded, intrigued, so Gilbert continued with his request. "Could you post this letter for me in two weeks?"

"Two weeks?"

"Yes. Please not a day sooner. And also," he said. "I left my horse Charlie at the railing. Would you be so kind as to give him to Mr. Cuthbert when you see him? There's a note in the saddle for him."

The man raised a surprised eyebrow. "Yes, I can do that, but –"

"Here's for your service, sir," Gilbert quickly added, putting some money on the counter. The train was arriving and he needed to go before he changed his mind.

The man nodded, took the money and the envelope and gave Gilbert the ticket. "Good luck!" he called out to Gilbert, sensing that he was on to a journey.

Gilbert didn't even look back. As soon as the train had stopped and the people had cleared the doors, Gilbert stepped in and sat against a window. He looked at the cherry tree in the distance, down the track, and immediately thought of Anne.

He closed his eyes and sat on the opposite seat, the tree behind him. He didn't want anything that could make him change his mind.

It took three hours to get to Charlottetown, with all the stops along the way. But Gilbert had planned ahead, and he knew he had plenty of time before the ship left. He had the acceptance letter in his hand to be a coal trimmer on the ship, and he knew he had a spot reserved. Unless he was late, and the ship wouldn't wait for him.

In Charlottetown, Gilbert walked out of the train with his bag and walked across town to the harbor. A large ship was waiting some distance away from the coast, and a smaller boat was going back and forth with passengers and workers, bringing them to the larger ship. He showed the paper and they let him on the boat. A few minutes later, it was on its way to the larger ship. When he showed his paper to the man welcoming the passengers, he was directed to go below deck, and find a Mr. Faulkner.

He found him, a bulky mustached man covered in soot.

"Blythe," he said, reading the paper. "Put your bags down in the hammock area and come here right after."

Gilbert nodded and did as instructed. He came back wearing only his shirt, to which he rolled the sleeves up. He knew this shirt – and the three others he had taken with him – would be ruined before the end of the journey. But he planned to buy some upon his arrival in Le Havre, France.

He came back to the main working room, where another couple dozens of men were waiting for further instructions. They were separated in teams of seven men to trim the coal. It would be their shift team until the end of the journey, so they'd better start getting to know each other.

In Gilbert's team, there was a man with dark skin. He had seen some like him before, but only from afar. Gilbert shrugged. They would all be black and covered in soot in a matter of hours, anyway. It didn't make a difference what color of skin the men had.

~.~.~

The first few days were hard on Gilbert. First, there was the seasickness. Second, he was used to doing chores at home, but that made him use all different kinds of muscles. Now? He was using only the same muscles over and over again, and he was sore. Each time he went to bed he thought he would never get back up. But every morning he continued to get up and work. After a few days, the pain went away and he knew he was becoming stronger.

"So, Gilbert," his hammock neighbor once asked with his particular accent. It was the man with the dark skin, although now they were all black with soot. "What are you running away from?"

Gilbert snorted. "What are you talking about?"

Sebastian, also known as Bash, laughed. "A white boy like you with a fine bag, and fine clothes. Surely you could be doing something else, no?"

Gilbert didn't reply right away. He shoveled some coal in the fire. "I'm not running away," he finally replied. "I needed some space."

Bash laughed. "Space? Down here?"

Gilbert shrugged. Nobody could understand, anyway. Why bother explaining?

"Did you break the law?" Bash asked.

"No."

"Did you lose your house to the bank?" another man asked, joining the conversation everyone was listening to, now.

"No."

"Is it about a girl?" someone asked.

"Come on," Bash said. "He's only a teenager. It can't be a girl."

Gilbert didn't take the bait. He knew no one would understand.

"Did you kill someone?"

"No."

No one asked anything more and they worked in silence for a while. Gilbert was trimming twice as hard than usual, trying not tell his crewmates why he did run away. But Bash was right. He was only a teenager. What could have possibly had happened to him? He had money, he had friends, he had a house. So why run away?

At the end of their shift, a few hours later, Gilbert and Bash went on the lower deck to breathe in some fresh air and cool down a bit. They always took full advantage of their free time to be outside. Gilbert leaned on the railing and looked at the horizon. They had been sailing for six days, now, and he wasn't sick anymore. The first couple of days had been rough.

"I left my home for one reason," he blurted out.

Bash leaned on the railing next to him, ready to listen.

"My father died and I had no one left." He paused for a long time, and neither he or Bash thought he would add anything. "I just needed some time to figure things out."

Bash nodded, not commenting.

~.~.~

Gilbert was running on the Avonlea cliffs, the edge coming closer, and the high grass dancing in the wind around him. He didn't know why he was running, but he couldn't seem to be able to stop. He ran. And when he was at the edge, he stopped abruptly, small stones falling down the cliff. That's when he saw her.

"Anne!"

She didn't hear him, she just kept walking towards the water.

"Anne!" he called out again.

But she continued walking. Now she was in the water, and he knew that she wouldn't stop.

"Anne, stop!" Gilbert tried to move, to do something, if only his feet weren't stuck to the ground! He tried pulling his feet out of the quicksand – how had he come down to the beach and got stuck was a mystery – but the more he was moving, the more he was sinking. "Anne! Come back!"

"Gilbert!" someone called. "Gilbert, wake up!"

Gilbert woke with a start, his heart beating hard in his chest. He feared it would jump out of his ribcage. But he knew that was impossible, so he tried to calm down. He looked around him. the sway of the hammock reminded him he was on a ship. _Right,_ he told himself.

"Are you okay?" Bash's voice came from his left.

Gilbert looked at his friend and nodded. He was sweating and needed a change of air. Down there, it was suffocating. He slid out of his hammock and walked outside, avoiding the eyes around him, cursing him silently for waking them up. He mumbled an apology and got out, happy to breathe the fresh winter air of the Atlantic Ocean. He grabbed the railing with both hands and took a deep breath, his lungs stinging from the cold. But, oh, boy how it felt good.

He tried to remember his dream– no, his nightmare, but couldn't remember anything apart from the fact that he couldn't move. What was he doing?

After a few minutes outside, he decided to go back below deck or he would catch his death in the cold. He tiptoed around the hammocks and found his again. He climbed in and stayed still, staring at the ceiling. Men around him were snoring again. He thought Bash was asleep again, so he tried sleeping, too. He couldn't. That feeling during his nightmare of being powerless kept him awake.

"Who's Anne?" Bash suddenly whispered in the dark.

"What?" Gilbert asked, surprised to hear her name here.

"You were calling out that name in your dream."

Gilbert snorted. "More like a nightmare." He didn't want to talk about Anne. Had she been in his nightmare? Why had he called out her name?

"That's why you left, isn't it?" Bash asked. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Gilbert replied curtly, rolling on his side to try to get comfortable to fall asleep again.

"Alright," Bash said. "Don't tell me anything." He paused. "But you seemed pretty distressed. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, she was there."

Gilbert closed his eyes tightly shut, trying to get his friend's words out of his mind, as well as Anne. Of course, she never left his mind after that. Why had she been in his dream? What was happening? He couldn't remember a thing.

~.~.~

After two weeks of trimming coal and avoiding Bash's questions, they finally arrived in Le Havre, in France. They disembarked in their dirty clothes and quickly found a place to change. Gilbert had kept a clean pair of pants and a clean shirt so he wouldn't look like a beggar when arriving in France.

"So," Bash said. "What do we do now?" He had been working on that ship for seven years and hadn't planned on leaving it. But there he was with his new friend, on French soil.

"We need clothes, and a ride to Paris."

"Paris?" Bash readjusted the bag on his shoulder. "Why there?"

Gilbert shrugged. "It's the center of France. We can find a job there. Or it can be a start to somewhere else."

Both men were standing on the sidewalk, not used to firm ground under them, yet. Especially not Bash. It would take him longer than Gilbert to get his land legs back. Their first stop was a clothes shop for men, and then the market for food. When both had replenished their bags and bellies, they asked their way to the closest train station. A man pointed out the direction and they went there. Gilbert purchased two tickets for Paris in third class – he would have to be careful, he hadn't planned on paying stuff for two – and boarded a train a few hours later for Paris.

* * *

_**Hi guys! sorry, it's been a long time since my last update... but thanks to **countduco** for reminding me to write lol.**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this little chapter. Gilbert is in France now, not in Trinidad, like in the show. I hope you won't mind this little change...^^**_

_**Thanks for reading, reviewing and stopping by! see you in the next chapter for Anne's POV ;)**_


	13. 13 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 13 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, August 1896._**

Anne Shirley stared at the letter. She re-read it twice more, until all the words mixed up on the page. She wasn't expecting such a blow to her heart, but she had to admit that she was shocked. And hurt. Her chest felt smaller, and she was afraid her heart would get squished inside her ribcage. She tried taking a large gulp of air, but it was like she was drowning all over again.

The paper slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground like a feather gliding on the wind, back and forth several times until the letter quietly rested on the floor, halfway under her bed. Anne didn't even notice it as she stood and walked out of the room and the house, stepping on the letter. She walked outside on the porch, and down the path that led to the big field outside of Green Gables.

She fell on her knees in the tall grass and tears flowed freely on her cheeks.

Why had she just dismissed his absence as something normal? Why would he even be on vacation when he had the orchard and the house to take care of? Of course, he would be gone if he was not home, anymore. And she couldn't even write him back. There was no return address. The only thing she knew was that he was in Europe.

Europe was so big, he could be anywhere! And he was all alone, over there!

Anne tried to calm down and breathed deeply seven times before her heart had come back to normal and she didn't feel like she was drowning, anymore.

"Anne?" Marilla said coming up behind her. "Are you alright?"

Anne nodded. "Yes, I'm fine," she lied.

"What did Gilbert say?" the older woman asked.

Anne shrugged. "Just that he would be away for a little while."

"Oh," Marilla said, surprised. "Where is he?"

"He didn't say." Anne stood and started to walk away.

"But how long will he be gone?" Marilla asked, following Anne back to the house.

"I don't know, and I don't really care, Marilla," Anne said. "I've got some chores to do. "Do you know where Matthew is?"

Marilla frowned, oblivious to Anne's lies. "In the barn, I think."

"Good." Anne hurried her steps. "I'll see you later, Marilla. I'll come to help you fix dinner."

With that, Anne was on her way to the barn, and her smile faltered the moment Marilla was far enough not to hear her shaky breaths.

How could he have left like that? Without even saying goodbye? He had no right to do that to her! He was supposed to help her navigate the mathematics waters, but now she was on her own, and she didn't even know how to swim. He had only thrown her a small buoy, and she was supposed to survive with that. She snorted at the mere thought and stepped inside the barn.

She looked around, but didn't see Matthew. She listened carefully, though, and she could hear him pitchforking hay on the top floor. She could also hear Jerry with him. Anne climbed the steep ladder to the floor above the horses and poked her head in the hole. Yes, Matthew and Jerry were there.

"Anne?" Jerry said, being the first one to notice her. "What are you doing here?" he asked in his peculiar French accent.

"I need to talk to Matthew," she replied. "Alone."

Jerry stared at Anne. He got the meaning, but he didn't want to leave. He wanted to hear whatever Anne had to say.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Jerry?" she asked. "Oh, right, you can't read." She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to be bigger than she was. "Can you _please_ leave for a moment? I need to speak to Matthew alone."

Jerry rolled his eyes and looked at Matthew for confirmation, and Matthew nodded and smiled apologetically. "Go get some water from the well for the horses," he said, giving him an excuse to leave.

Jerry planted his pitchfork in the hay and left, annoyed at being left out for this. The conversation seemed to be interesting, and he would have had something to tell his family, that evening.

"What is it, Anne?" Matthew gently asked once Jerry was out of earshot. He continued to fork the hay into a neat pile on the side.

"Gilbert's gone," she blurted out, keeping down the tears.

"I know," he replied without looking at her. He couldn't look at her right now.

"What?" Anne asked, completely taken aback. "How did you know?"

Matthew didn't reply right away. He forked hay three times before saying anything. "He asked me to take care of Charlie."

"When?" Anne felt betrayed. How did Matthew know? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He asked me not to tell you," Matthew said. "I'm sorry, Anne." He sighed. "I didn't see Gilbert. It was when I went to Charlottetown and went to the train station that the man said there was a horse waiting for me, with a note in the saddle." He paused. "That was three days after Gilbert had left."

"But–" Anne started. "What did he say in the note?"

The old man shrugged. "Probably the same thing he wrote in your letter." He dared a quick glance over the red head girl her loved so much. It had broken his heart to keep this secret from her, but now she knew.

Anne couldn't stop the tear that rolled down her cheek. Matthew, her dear friend, the first one who had ever liked her, the only one she truly loved with all her heart, had betrayed her. He had betrayed her trust. How could he have done that?

She took a deep breath and stomped out of the barn, storming out just as Jerry was coming back with two pails of water.

"What happened?" he asked, watching Anne leave. That's all Anne heard before she was in the field again. But she didn't stop there, and went through the woods and down the road, all the way to Diana's house. Only, she didn't realize she was going there. She stopped in the garden, just a distance away from the house.

"Anne?" Diana said, leaning through the window. She had seen Anne coming up the road. "What are you doing here?"

Anne looked up, her eyes read, her cheeks wet, and her hair completely disheveled. One of her braids had come loose, the brown ribbon lost somewhere on the way.

"I'll be right down," Diana said, closing the window.

Anne sat on the bench outside, not knowing what she was going to say to Diana. Did she already know? She didn't turn around when she heard Diana's steps coming on the gravel path. She wasn't running – of course, she wasn't running. She was a lady – and she sat next to Anne, taking her hands in hers.

"Anne, talk to me. What happened?"

Would Diana think her a fool for crying over Gilbert Blythe that had left without saying goodbye? She thought she was one.

"Gilbert's gone," she blurted out, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

Diana frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's gone. To Europe." Her shoulders slumped and she looked at her hands in Diana's

"When did– how?" Diana stuttered. "Why?"

Anne just shrugged. "Three weeks ago, on a ship, and he said he needed some space." She paused. "To figure out his future." There, she had answered Diana's three questions. She didn't think she could say more. For the first time in her life, words wouldn't be enough for her.

"Oh," Diana simply said.

Anne looked at her friend, searching for something in her eyes. But it wasn't there. Diana wouldn't understand her pain.

"I have to go back home," Anne said lamely. "Marilla will need my help with dinner." She quickly hugged Diana and walked away. Diana was still frowning as she watched Anne leave, not understanding what was leaving her in such a state.

Anne didn't notice the walk home. She didn't notice the warm breeze or the wild flowers on the side of the road. Or the birds chirping in the trees. She was looking at her feet and just put one foot in front of the other.

What was she supposed to do, now? How was she supposed to go to school? Gilbert was not there to help her with the numbers, and there was no one as good as her to compete with. She would lose all will to learn and–

No. Learning was important. She could continue to do that and be ready for _when_ he returned. Because yes, Anne knew there was going to be a 'when', not an 'if'.

She didn't see Jerry walking her way, his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Anne? Are you okay?" he asked.

Anne nodded and just walked by. She didn't want to talk to anyone. A few minutes later, she was standing in front of Green Gables. How was she to face Matthew? The betrayal was still fresh in her heart, and she knew dinner would be awkward.

She pushed the door opened.

"Oh, thank God you're here," Marilla said. "Where were you? We looked everywhere for you?"

"Diana's," Anne said.

"Hmph. Well," Marilla continued. "You can set the table."

"Yes, Marilla," Anne said. Her usual happy voice was gone. She slowly went to the cupboard, took out three plates, and set them on the table. She continued with forks, knives, spoons, and cups, and then went to get three freshly clean napkins. She stirred the soup and cut the fresh bread Marilla had baked that afternoon and–

Matthew walked into the kitchen. Anne froze, but Matthew wouldn't look at her.

"Wash your hands, Matthew," Marilla ordered, oblivious to the tension between the man and the young girl. She sat at the table and waited for the others to join her.

Matthew said grace, and Marilla started to serve the soup. Anne didn't say a word and kept her eyes to her plate. So was Matthew, but that wasn't unusual.

"How's Diana?" Marilla asked once everyone had been served.

"Fine," Anne said. She pushed the soup around in her plate. Even the fresh bread didn't look appealing to her when it was usually her favorite. She didn't say a single word during dinner nor did she eat a single drop of soup or a single crumb of bread. Even Matthew kept his head down and didn't say anything. Marilla found it quite surprising, considering Anne always chattered on throughout any meal. The silence was deafening.

"Anne," Marilla asked after a while. "Please tell me you're not in the depths of despair." There was a slightly amused tone in her voice, as she remembered the first night Anne was here, silent over her food. She had been '_in the depths of despair'_, then.

Anne looked up and all the will to keep the tears away broke down. A heartbreaking sob escaped her lips and she ran away, up the stairs and into her room, not even bothering to close the door. Marilla and Matthew exchanged a surprised look. They had never seen her like this.

Upstairs, Anne cried under her covers, hiding from the world around her. How could Gilbert's absence make her feel like that? He was just a friend, right? From under the covers, she didn't hear Marilla come in, her booted steps soft on the old wooden floor. She noticed the letter on the floor, picked it up, and read it silently. To her, it felt like John Blythe all over again, and she knew at that moment exactly what Anne felt. She sat on the bed and coaxed Anne to sit up. once the girl had been convinced to do so, Marilla took her in her arms and held her tightly, trying to hold Anne's heart pieces together, not like hers had been, scattered to the winds. She didn't want Anne to go through that as well.

"I'm so sorry, Anne," Marilla whispered in her red hair. "But I'm sure he's going to come back."

"You don't know that," she said between sobs. "He hates me!"

"No, he doesn't," Marilla replied. She rocked the girls back and forth for a while until she calmed down. "I'm sure he likes you very much…"

* * *

_**Hi! omg I'm so sorry for the looooong wait for this chapter... I feel so ridiculous, because it took me like 20 minutes to finish this chapter, and it's been waiting for more than a month. But I've been focusing in April on my April Camp Nano project, which is my original book^^ **(and on my new fic, too, but heh. whoops)_

_**anyway. Thank you for not losing hope in me! I promise more will come, and I'm going to try to post at least once a month, now^^ see you next time with Gilbert's chapter!**_

_**thanks for your reviews and ecouragement^^**_


	14. 14 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter 14 – Gilbert Blythe**

**_Europe, France, Paris, Gare Saint-Lazare. August 1896._**

The train ride from Le Havre had been one of the most uncomfortable Gilbert had been on. The space was cramped, it smelled of dirty people, and he was always afraid someone might hit him on the head and steal his bag. He didn't have much with him, but it was all he had.

When they stepped onto the smoky platform of Paris, something in Gilbert was relieved. Though he was thousands of miles and many weeks away from what he had called home for so many years, he was relieved to finally reach his first goal: Paris.

"Do you know anyone in Paris?" Bash asked, looking around. From the look on his face, he was like a fish out of water. How many times had Bash described Trinidad to Gilbert over their trimming work? Paris was a far cry from that...

"No, I don't." Gilbert barely even knew French. What had gotten into him to come _here_? Why not London where he could have communicated with the people? "First, we have to find lodgings and jobs. Then we can decide what we do. Sounds good?"

Bash nodded. "Why is there so much smoke?" he asked, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve.

"I don't know, but let's get out of here." Without waiting for Bash's reply, he darted away from the people boarding on the train and headed into the main hall. He looked at all the headings and names and he was grateful that Europeans used the same alphabet.

With hand gestures and some broken French words he had picked up on the train and from the French-speaking Canadians back in Avonlea – Jerry being one of them – they found their way to the wealthy part of Paris with a map in hand. They went into shops to ask for jobs and the people were always happy to see Gilbert. But as soon as they saw Bash, they refused him any kind of job. "It was not good for the shop's image to have a colored man working there," they'd say. Though they offered Gilbert the job, he refused. He was not going to leave Bash alone. They had come as a team, they would work as a team.

They walked the streets of _Les Champs Elysées_ and went into countless shops. Not one was willing to take on Bash.

"I shouldn't have come," Bash said when they sat on a bench eating a sandwich, later that evening. The sun was setting and they hadn't found any job.

"Don't say that," Gilbert said. "We'll find something." But Gilbert knew he was just saying that to encourage not only Bash but both of them. He really hadn't thought Bash's skin color would be a problem. He was just a man like everyone else!

They ate in silence and when their food was long gone, Gilbert hoisted his bag on his shoulder and stood. "Come on. We'll start again tomorrow," he said, yawning. "We need to find someplace to sleep."

"What about this bench?" Bash replied sarcastically. "If rooms are as hard to find as work, I'd better sleep here. We can meet in the morning."

Gilbert simply glared at his friend because he was not in the mood for joking right now. He turned on his heels and walked away.

"Gil-" Bash sighed. "Gilbert, I was joking. Come on, my man." Bash followed Gilbert's angry stride. "Do you even know where you're going?"

But Gilbert didn't reply. All of a sudden, he was deeply questioning why he was here. Why had he left his home? Why had he left Anne? The mere thought of her sent a crack through his young heart. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the next few hours. If they didn't find a bed soon, he would collapse in the middle of the street. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had a good night's sleep. Maybe it was on the boat, in the swaying hammock.

"Gilbert, talk to me," Bash said, walking beside him. But Gilbert didn't talk. He turned left and right, and right, and left. The sky was completely dark by the time they made their way into a small back alley. Even the lamps didn't make it this far into the city.

Bash and Gilbert looked at the open door from where light and music and laughter came. They stared at the name above the door: _Chez Elise_.

"Are you sure about this?" Bash mumbled. "This looks like a brothel."

"It's all I have right now," he replied. "We'll look for something better tomorrow." Gilbert sighed but resigned himself to what he was about to do. "Let's do this."

He stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the door, the light, the music, and the laughter. No wonder the French called these establishments _Maison de Joie_, or House of joy. Because it really seemed joyful from outside.

"_Messieurs, bienvenue chez Elise_!" A heavy woman in a burgundy gown said, walking towards them. Gentlemen, welcome at Elise! "_Que pourra satisfaire vos desirs_?"

"Uhm," Gilbert said, feeling his cheeks starting to burn. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea after all. "We don't speak French," he admitted.

"Ah!" The woman – Elise herself? – said. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" She asked in heavily accented English.

Gilbert sighed, relieved to hear his mother tongue from a stranger. "I'm afraid we're only looking for two beds," he said. "We've been traveling for two days and we're exhausted." Why he had revealed all that in less than a minute was beyond his comprehension. He was exhausted.

The fat lady eyed them suspiciously but her inviting smile didn't break.

"Just for one night," Gilbert said. "We'll be out if your feet tomorrow morning."

A dark skin girl walked up to Bash and ran her hand on his shoulder, flashing him a seductive smile.

"Leave him be, Prunelle," the woman said. Then, addressing Gilbert, she said, "I have one room for you two." She paused. "But more money since you won't be using _mes filles_." Her girls.

Gilbert nodded. "Thank you, Mrs...?"

"You can call me Madame Elise, young man," she replied. "50 cents each for the night. Follow me."

Gilbert almost choked at the exorbitant price. But if it was the price for locking himself up in his room and keeping his dignity, then so be it. Madame Elise showed them to a room just under the roof with only a small window. There was only one bed, too.

"There is another mattress under the bed," Madame Elise explained. "And you won't be bothered up here. There is only one other room on this floor and it is mine."

"Thank you," Gilbert said.

"Do you need anything else? Food?"

"No thank you." Gilbert offered him his best – exhausted – smile and Madame Elise walked away, leaving the two young men alone.

"I can't believe you pulled that off," Bash said.

"Neither can I," Gilbert admitted closing the door. He crouched on the floor and pulled the second mattress out. There was just enough space for it between the other bed and the wall. And there was nothing else in the room beside a chair.

Without thinking, both boys took off their shirts and pants, leaving them in their undergarments. Bash chose the bed on the floor and lay down, his coat over his middle, one arm beneath his head, and the other over his eyes.

"There is a pillow if you want," Gilbert said, sitting on the bed.

"No, you keep it. G'night, _Guilly_ boy," Bash mumbled, using the pet name he had annoyed Gilbert with on the boat.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and lay down. His head hadn't even touched the pillow that he was already asleep. His dreams were filled with swaying grass fields that merged into water waves and into cobblestone streets. He couldn't make heads or tails of anything but it took him to places he loved and others he hated.

Gilbert woke up the next morning with the smell of coffee. The girls of the house were already having their breakfast and his belly grumbled. The small sandwich they had eaten the previous evening was a faint memory.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too," Bash said from the floor. "So, what's the plan?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He honestly hadn't thought it would be this hard to find a job and a room. "Same as yesterday, he said. We find someone willing to hire us, and we find another place to stay." The squeaking of mattresses on the floor below had not bothered them, the previous night: they had fallen asleep right away. But Gilbert knew he didn't want to stay in this place, however comfortable the bed. He felt... dirty.

"I like that plan," Bash said, sitting up. "But we should split up."

"What? But why? We came here together, we work this out together."

Bash sent Gilbert a look. "Listen. I've lived with my skin for a very long time. I know how it is to be dismissed because of its color." He sighed. "We'll both have better luck finding jobs if we're on our own. You stick to the wealthy parts of Paris, I'll stick around here."

Gilbert climbed out of bed and huffed. "Fine. But we meet up tonight on the same bench as yesterday." His belly grumbled again. "First stop, food."

"Right."

Both young men packed their bags and left the room. The wooden stairs squeaked and cracked as they went down. So much for discretion. On the ground floor, they met all the working girls with Madame Elise eating breakfast.

"Ah, our young guests," Madame Elise said with her thick French accent. "Would you like some breakfast?" she asked, gesturing to two empty seats at the end of the table. "Included in the price," she added.

Gilbert and Bash shared a look and Bash nodded. "Thank you," he said. He sat down on one of the free chairs and urged a nervous Gilbert to do the same.

The girls around the table giggled and passed bread, jam, butter, and coffee down their way. The girls weren't completely undressed but they weren't completely dressed either. Gilbert kept his eyes on his food.

"So, what brings you to Paris?" Prunelle, the dark-skinned girl asked. Her English was broken, but still somewhat understandable.

"Work," Bash said. "Something new."

"Are you running from something?" another girl asked, her big green curious eyes trained on them.

Gilbert stayed silent. Was he running from something? Or did he just want something else, something to take his mind off Prince Edward Island? Off Anne? But no. He would never be able to forget the redhaired girl. She would go with him – In his mind at least – wherever he went.

Bash answered for both of them. "Not running away from anything. We just want a change of scenery for a while." He tore a piece of bread and dipped it in his bitter coffee. "Do you know any place where my friend and I could find decent work?" he asked. Gilbert's head snapped up. Was he really going to unravel all their plans to these women?

"Hmm," Madame Elise hummed, tapping a red-nailed finger on her chin. What kind of work are you looking for? My cousin was looking for someone to work at his press." She looked at Bash and Gilbert. "Someone strong, like you, good sir," she added to Bash. It was no secret that Bash was stronger than Gilbert. Trimming coal for ten years did that to someone.

Bash nodded. "Could you tell me where I can find your cousin's press, Madame?"

Madame Elise gave him directions with the help of pen and paper while Gilbert continued to eat in silence. His mind drifted back to Avonlea and he thought about Anne again. If she knew where he was now, would she still talk to him? Probably not. Though a part of him knew without a doubt that Anne would have nothing but love and compassion for these girls. Hadn't she had just that for the savages, back in Canada, calling them her friends? No. Anne wouldn't be ashamed of this place. He knew she had seen worse. Maybe if he could start to see the world as she did it would be better. Wouldn't it?

He looked up at the girls around the table. "Would you know anyone in need of an accountant, Madame Elise?" Gilbert heard himself ask. He was good with numbers, so maybe he could start there.

"I am," the heavy lady said, studying Gilbert. "My ledgers have been left unattended since the last one left."

Gilbert wasn't expecting that. He had hoped for something in another place. But what would Anne do? She'd accept. He nodded. "Uhm, sure. Would you take me on, then?"

Bash started at Gilbert, surprised. _A job in this place?_ his eyes seemed to say. But Gilbert just sat up straighter.

"How good are you with numbers?" she asked. And before he could answer, she continued. "And how would you like to be paid?"

Pink rose in Gilbert's cheeks. "Coin," he replied without hesitating. "And two beds," he said. "One for me and one for Bash.

"That can be arranged," Madame Elise said.

And just like that, they had found jobs and lodgings before nine in the morning. He just hoped he wasn't making a big mistake by staying here. He had wanted to see something else? Well, he had something else, all right…

* * *

_**Hi! thanks for reading!**_

_**I hope you liked this chapter! but I also hope you weren't too shocked as to where Gilbert and Bash ended up; but I really wanted to see how he'd fare in Paris, and how he would react to Bash's rejection everywhere. I also wanted Gilbert to keep Anne close, and to learn things from her, even from far away. I hope it makes sense... ^^' don't worry, Gilbert and Bash won't stay there forever...**_

_**see you next chapter, back on Prince Edward Island, with Anne! thanks for your reviews, as well! :D**_


	15. 15 – Anne Shirley

**Chapter 15 – Anne Shirley**

**_Canada, Prince Edward Island, Avonlea. September 1896._**

Anne had spent the summer exploring the island with Diana and Jerry, and at some point, she had felt like a third wheel, with them. Jerry had had a crush on Diana ever since he had seen her at Green Gables with Anne, but it took Diana longer to fully appreciate the poor French-speaking work hand. Their proximity at the end of August had only increased Anne's sorrow of missing Gilbert all the time. Not that she was particularly thinking about him all the time on purpose, but he was always there, somehow, to remind her of him.

He was in the black horse in the stables. He was in the cliffs, by the sea. He was in the crashing waves he had saves her from. He was in the dancing grass.

And he was even in the arithmetic exercises Mr. Philipps had given them to do on their first day of school. Anne sighed. She thought about the pies he had used to explain fractions to her. And now, instead of numbers, she saw pies. She was hungry.

"Was that your belly grumbling, Anne?" Diana asked, a look of mortification on her face.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, but she didn't explain why it how. It was too silly. The worst part was that she hadn't had any news from him since his last letter left in Charlie's saddle. Was he still alive? Had the ship he was on made it to France? Did he find a place to sleep?

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!" Mr. Philipps barked from his desk. "Pay attention to your paper!"

Anne didn't reply but she looked at the lines of numbers on her page and like always, they swam in front of her, making no sense at all. If only _he_ was there and he could help her.  
She tried to put the numbers in pies but it didn't work. So, she took another piece of paper and hid the lines, leaving only the first line open, making it easier to read. After that, she could focus on the numbers and it was a tiny bit easier.

A couple of hours and a headache later, Mr. Philipps rang the bell for the lunch break and the class ran outside. People were wondering where Gilbert was but Anne just ignored them. What could she tell them, anyway? She took her meal and went to sit away from her usual group of girls, and sat down under a tall tree, on a protruding root. She took out a book she had taken from Marilla's bookshelf without telling her and started reading while she ate.

"Are you alright, Anne?"

Anne looked up and smiled when she saw her friend Cole McKenzie sitting down next to her on the big root. "Yes, I'm alright." She offered him a smile. "I haven't seen you around, this summer," she added.

Cole shrugged. "There was a lot of work to be done on the farm," he explained.

Anne nodded and they ate in silence for a while. When Cole was done eating, he took out his notebook – of which Anne noticed there weren't that many blank pages left – and started drawing while Anne read. It was their routine, and they loved it.

"Who's the new boy?" Cole asked, breaking their peaceful silence and motioning with his chin. He had chestnut hair and was sitting alone on the fence, watching the other boys kick a ball to each other.

"I have no idea," Anne replied. " I have to admit I didn't even notice him."

Cole chuckled. "Of course, you didn't," he said, teasing her a little. "Your mind has been with Gilbert Blythe ever since you set foot in this school this morning."

Anne's cheeks flushed a bright beet red. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." That said, she buried her nose in her book again.

"Where is he, anyway?" her friend asked, ignoring the fact that she was ignoring her own feelings. He knew better. Anyone who had eyes to see knew that as much as Gilbert had been smitten with Anne since Day One, Anne had slowly liked the boy as well.

"How would I know?" she snapped back. "I'm not his mother, am I?"

Cole tried not to laugh and went back to his drawing and Anne to her book. After a few minutes of tense silence between the two, Anne looked at Cole's notebook and recognized the new boy taking life in the lines he was drawing. She looked up at the new boy still sitting on the fence, but now he had most of the girls huddled around him and talking to him. The boys kicking the ball were distracted by that attention they didn't have. Usually, the girls gushed about _them_ playing ball.

Cole looked up from his drawing, too. "Looks like Gilbert will be quickly replaced among the girls."

Anne shook her head. "No can replace Gilbert," she countered. "They're just looking for some entertainment while he's gone.

"You have to admit that he is cute," Cole mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, kind of," she agreed. Then she paused, frowning. "Wait. What did you just say?"

Cole kept his eyes on his drawing, his cheeks suddenly flushed more than usual. "Nothing."

Anne frowned. Had she imagined him saying that or had he really said it? Can a boy call another boy cute? But then again why not? Love is love, right? Oh well. Anne went back to her book only to be interrupted by the bell calling the students back inside for the second part of the day. She sighed, closed her book, and slipped it in her lunch tin. She and Cole walked side by side in silence and took their seats in class: Anne next to Diana and Cole next to no one at the back of the class. No one wanted to sit next to him, anyway, and the new boy had taken his seat in Gilbert's spot, right next to Moody Spurgeon.

"All right class," Mr. Philipps said from his seat behind the giant desk. "Now is time for our traditional back-to-school spelling bee." He paused. "I want to see how illiterate you've become during the summer." His smile made him look like the devil himself and Anne shivered. She wasn't afraid of a spelling bee. She had read several books over the summer – how could she not? – and written many short stories involving tragical romances and knights in shining armor slaying dragons for damsels in distress.

Without being told to, the students stood in two lines against the blackboard, the girls on one side and the boys on the other side.

And thus, began the first spelling bee of the year. Anne was the last one if the girls to be asked a word – which was _ATROCIOUS_ – but she didn't falter. After a few rounds, she was the only girl left standing, and among the boys were Cole and the new boy.

She noticed Mr. Philipps was getting tired of the game as well.

He sighed, looking for a hard word for Cole. "Mr. McKenzie," he said with a devilish sparkle in his eyes. "Spell _dissenters_."

Cole made a face while he pictured the word in his mind. "D.I.C.E.N.T.E.R.S."

"Wrong. Take a seat. Mr. Gardner?" he asked the remaining boy.

"Dissenters: D.I.S.S.E.N.T.E.R.S."

"Correct. Miss Shirley-Cuthbert, spell _mischievous_." He grinned slyly, thinking that Anne wouldn't get it right. Of course, she got it right and by now, half of the class had lost interest in the spelling bee and was talking amongst themselves. Mr. Philipps continued throwing a few more words at Anne and the Gardner boy, after which he declared them both winners. Anne knew he hated when that happened and that he would be grumpy all afternoon, but she wasn't going to end her zero-mistake streak in the spelling-bee for that. They would just have to endure his lousy mood.

Time passed ever so slowly but when Mr. Philipps finally rang the bell, the students all scrambled to get their books and other things together and ran out of the classroom. The school year would be long, and Anne wasn't particularly looking forward to it, though she did love school.  
She started walking away from the school alone – Diana's father had picked her up to go into town for something or another – and she let her mind loose.

It didn't go far, because she heard running steps coming towards her from behind. For one second, she thought it might be Gilbert, and she turned around.

Only, it was not Gilbert: it was the new boy.

"Hi!" he said smiling and stopping next to her. "I'm Roy Gardner." He held out his hand and Anne took it, by reflex. "I'm going in the same direction as you..." he trailed off. "Do you mind if we walk together?"

Anne was dumbfounded. No one besides Diana and Gilbert had ever walked with her from school. No one wanted to. Why him?

"Uhm, sure," she said a little wearily. They started walking side by side in silence and it lasted for some time. But every time there was a fork in the road, Roy followed her.

"I'm sorry but where exactly are you going?" she finally asked. "Are you following me?"

"Oh, no!" he said, startled from his own thoughts. "My family just moved into the yellow house not too far from the Green Gables farm. Do you know the place?"

Anne frowned. She didn't even notice there were new tenants in the house closest to them. He would be her closest neighbor, not including Gilbert because he was now gone.

"I live there," she said. "How long have you been here?"

"A couple of weeks." He chuckled. "I was scared I'd arrived in a whole new classroom full of smart kids, but there's only you."

"Me and Gilbert," she said without even thinking.

Roy frowned. "Gilbert? I think I heard the other boys talk about him but I don't think he was there today?"

Anne pinched her lips. "No, he wasn't here today." _And he won't be here tomorrow either_, she thought bitterly.

"Oh."

They continued walking in silence until the last turn before Green Gables and Roy bid her goodbye and went towards the yellow house on his own, leaving Anne alone with her thoughts again. She really needed to talk to someone – Diana, Gilbert, anyone – but it would be weird. She walked to the big house and pushed the green door open.

"Hello, Marilla, I'm home," she called out, hanging her hat and putting her basket on the table. She took out her book and sat at the kitchen table to read.

"Oh, there you are, Anne," Marilla said, coming in the kitchen. She took an apron from its hanging place and tied it around her slim waist. "How was the first day of school?"

"Like any other day," Anne replied, her mind still in her book. "Arithmetic and spelling. Nothing new." She paused and then looked up. "Speaking of new, there's a new boy in Avonlea. He moved in next door in the yellow house a few weeks ago."

"Oh?" Marilla paused in her slicing of the carrots for supper. "I noticed someone had moved in over there, but I didn't know there was a boy, as well." She continued slicing. "No news of your French boy?" she asked with the hint of a smile on her lips.

"My French–" Anne rolled her eyes. "He's not my French boy, Marilla, and no I don't have any news."

Marilla let out a small chuckled. "You knew who I was talking about." She put all the sliced carrots in the boiling water on the stove. "No news, good news, right?"

Anne shrugged. "I suppose." She tried reading some more but a boy with brown curls and soft brown chocolate eyes and freckles kept coming back to her mind so she clapped the book shut. "I'll set the table."

So Anne set the table. Then she helped finish cooking the meal. After supper, she cleared the table, did the dishes, and finished her homework. Needless to say, Gilbert didn't leave her thoughts.

What was he up to? Did he make it to France? Where was he? Was he even still alive?  
Anne took the candle on her bedside table and put it on her small desk. She took out a paper and dipped her pen in the black ink Matthew had given her. She wrote...

_'Dear Gilbert_,'

But then she stopped. What could she even say? _How dare you leave without a word?_ or _I miss you in school_? Anne continued writing and she ended up writing two full pages, telling him about school, about what she did during the summer, and that Charlie was well taken care of. She was careful not to talk about the new boy who had sat at his place in class, of how he was as good as them in the spelling bee. She didn't want Gilbert to think that he had already been replaced by someone. Which he hadn't, of course...

When she was done, she dated the letter and hid it inside her nightstand drawer. When Gilbert would write again with a return address, she would put in all the ones she'd written in the meantime...

He'd be her diary.

* * *

_**Hiii! Thanks for reading!**_

_**sorry, it took so long, I barely took the train in July and I only write this on my phone when I'm on the train xD. But these past few days a took the train more, so here I am! sorry, it took so long... **_

_**anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little chapter, where we meet Roy Gardner :eyes: what do you think of him? **_

_**thanks for your reviews, they mean a lot to me ;) **_

_**see you next time!**_


	16. 16 – Gilbert Blythe

**Chapter ****16 – Gilbert Blythe**

**_Europe, France, Paris, 19th Arr., Rue Cavendish. October 1896._**

For days, Gilbert went over _Madame_ Elise's books. Rows and rows of numbers swam in front of his eyes, and he started to mix everything up. He tried doing what he had told Anne, and took another piece of paper to—

_Anne_. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

The beautiful redhead girl he had left behind.

This was the first time in days, if not weeks, he had thought about her. A pang of nostalgia gripped at his chest and he suddenly needed more air to breathe. He left everything as it was on the desk and walked out, down the hall, and out in the dirty street. It was the middle of the day and the girls of the house were not busy yet. He knew he could work in peace at least until after lunch. There was the occasional morning customer from time to time, but the house was usually calm.

So was the grimy street, for now. He stepped outside, gulping for some air. Ever since he had set foot in Paris, his lungs seemed smaller, like he couldn't totally fill them. Sure, the air was not as clean as the air on Prince Edward Island and—

Why was he so nostalgic? Now of all times. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind. He needed to take a walk. By now, he knew this part of Paris and he wouldn't get lost. He walked straight all the way to the _Canal Saint Denis_, one of the smaller gray and green canals that flowed through the cobblestoned city and ended up in the Seine. Apart from the parks here and there, this was the only place where Paris was letting in some nature.

Gilbert grabbed the railings just as the nearest church bell rang two o'clock. And his belly grumbled. How could he have forgotten to eat? No wonder he was feeling all nostalgic and out of breath... He stayed there for a moment, looking at the fast current of the river, and again, his thoughts brought him back to Avonlea. And of Marilla Cuthbert's plum puffs.  
What on earth was he thinking? Leaving the only place he had ever called home, the only place where he had real friends?

He shook himself. He had friends, here, in Paris. Some of the girls from Madame Elise's house were nice to him. They knew he would never touch them in _that_ sort of way, and so some had started confiding in him. Sometimes, it was things he didn't need to know. Other times, they were just happy to have a friendly ear to blabber to.

And there was Bash. Sebastian Lacroix had found a steady job at the central post office: he swept the floors and kept out of white people's feet. At least he was paid, and it changed from trimming coal on a ship.

When Gilbert's stomach rumbled again, he decided to head back home – yes, he had called it "home" – to grab a bite. Because of course, he had fled his crowded office without a penny. Stupid.

He made his way back through the dirty streets, keeping his head down. When he stepped inside the House, three girls stood to—

"Oh, it's just you," one of them said, throwing her sash at him, giggling. Gilbert caught it expertly and playfully threw it back to her.

"Yes, it's just me and I'm starving." The girls giggled some more and shared glances. "Is there anything left in the kitchen?"

"Yes, but hurry up," the dark-skinned girl said with a twinkle in her eye. "You know how _Madame_ Elise doesn't like late-comers..."

Gilbert nodded and was swiftly on his way. He had seen how _Madame_ Elise was with latecomers, but thankfully, it hadn't been against him. Though he knew she wouldn't hesitate to treat him like her other employees, since he had been with them for a few weeks, already. Sure, he knew the new girls had a better life at the House, but only for a few weeks. Not that they were mistreated or anything. They just didn't have any favors anymore, after a point.

"Hello, Mrs. Bug." Gilbert smiled as he entered the dark kitchen.

"_Monsieur_ Gilbert," the old heavyset woman said with her thick French accent. "Finally! I thought you were lost in your numbers again!" She chuckled and took out a plate from the cupboard and filled it with the stew from the pot. She sliced a thick piece of bread and buttered it heavily too. "You're still too thin, _Monsieur_. Gilbert," she said, putting the plate in front of him. "I left you the most meat!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Bug." And by way of thanks, his belly grumbled even louder than before, awakened by the divine smell of the stew. This was one thing Gilbert was thankful for, ever since he had arrived in Paris: the food. He couldn't call it _'French cuisine'_ _per se_, but it was close enough. He gobbled up the stew in record time.

"_Monsieur_ Gilbert," the kind cook said. "Don't eat so fast! You will make yourself sick!" She tutted, clicking her tongue in motherly disapproval.

"I know, I know," he said. "But I need to finish my work this afternoon. I'm almost done."

"It took you three weeks to get it all done?" She asked, mildly surprised, cleaning the stew pot.

Gilbert cleaned his plate with the bread, sponging the tasty gravy. "Yes. _Madame_ Elise never did anything with her books, aside from just writing the salaries. I needed to figure out everything else."

"Hmph." She continued to clean her pot while Gilbert finished his plate. "Doesn't a smart boy like you want to do something else with his life? Working in a _Maison de Plaisir_ isn't what you've wanted to do since you were a boy, _non_?"

Gilbert snorted. "Hardly."

Mrs. Bug turned around and stared at the brunet boy in her kitchen. "_Bon Dieu_. Then what are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Gilbert sipped on the ale she had also given him. Then he put the cup down, swirled the remaining contents, and sighed. "I don't know..." he trailed off. He'd been so nostalgic earlier, he was afraid he might actually cry in from of Mrs. Bug. But was it that bad if he cried? Yes, it was. "I needed time and space from some, uhm, personal stuff." He carried his plate, fork, knife, and cup to the sink and cleaned them under the watchful eye of the cook.

"What is it that you've always wanted, _Monsieur_ Gilbert?" she asked.

Gilbert paused in his scrubbing of the plate and a smile spread on his freckled face. "I've always wanted to go to University."

"Then go!"

"Here?" He snorted. "It's in French."

"So?"

Gilbert put the dishes to dry and looked at his newfound friend. "Where would I stay? _Madame_ Elise wouldn't keep me here, using up a room, if I'm not working for her anymore."

Mrs. Bug went about the kitchen to start on the evening's meal for the household. "I am not _Madame _Elise, but you could stay on, working on one or two evenings a week with her books." She paused again, standing on her toes to grab a pot of honey on the top shelf. "What would you want to stud–"

"_À l'aide_!" a girl shouted, running down the stairs to the kitchen. "Madeline is having her baby! And it is too late to call the midwife! Madame Elise is furious! I don't know what to do!"

The poor girl was out of breath and as pale as a ghost.

"Calm down, _Colette_," Mrs. Bug said, helping the girl sit down on the bench.

"What do you mean 'she's having her baby'?" Gilbert asked. "Since when is she pregnant?"

"I don't know!"

It didn't take Gilbert long to decide what to do. "Mrs. Bug, boil some water and find some clean linens and towels. Collette? I need you to keep the girls out of Madeline's room for now. Only one can stay." He dashed for the stars, and then stopped in his tracks. "Oh, and Mrs. Bug? I'm going to need a sterilized knife as well."

Collette's eyes widened in fright and she fell from the bench, fainted. Gilbert didn't have time to take care of her, he had another patient that was more in need of his help. Whatever help it was he could provide. But he had helped his cow give birth to a calf a few years back. Surely, it wasn't all that different, right?

He ran up the stairs four by four and stopped in front of Madeline's room where all the other girls were huddled. Oh well, he'd had to get them all out himself since Colette had fainted.

"_Mesdemoiselles_," he called out. "Please, let me through, and I want only one other person with me inside."

All the girls hushed at once, looking at each other.

"I helped my _maman_ give birth to my little brother," one of the girls said. Gilbert couldn't remember her name at the moment but nodded at her, relieved. He ushered everyone else outside and closed the door. Madeline was on her bed, moaning in pain every few minutes.

When Gilbert looked down at her, he noticed her bump. How she had hidden that for months without _Madame_ Elise seeing it was a mystery. Granted, it wasn't as huge as he'd seen other mothers at the end of their pregnancies – not that he had known many pregnant women – but he was still shocked.

"Madeline," he said, kneeling down next to the young girl – fourteen? Fifteen years old? – and taking her hand. "How long have you known?"

The poor blond girl looked exhausted already: she was way too thin and fragile to be having a baby right now. "I don't know," she replied in French. "A month maybe?" She hissed as a new contraction seized her small frame.

Gilbert and the other girl – Francine, was her name – shared a look. "You didn't know sooner?" Francine asked gently, rubbing her hand.

Madeline shook her head. "I took all the precautions and did everything _Madame_ Elise told us to do! I thought I was safe!"

Gilbert sat near her feet just as Mrs. Bug came in with boiling water and clean linen. He nodded at the cook who told him she had put two other girls on boiling water duty. "Madeline," Gilbert said, trying to keep the girl's focus on him. "When was the last time you had your, uhm… monthlies?"

Madeline, already red in the face from the contractions, blushed even more. "I don't know," she whispered. "Months ago. I didn't count. They're not regular…"

Gilbert nodded, trying to think fast. She could be at any month, right now. If only he had any medical knowledge he could know for sure what was happening. Was the baby too early? And if not, why was her bump so small? He hoped the baby was small too because Madeline was on the petite side as well.

She screamed as the biggest yet contraction hit her. Madeline grabbed Francine's hand and Gilbert put his hands in the boiled water, cleaning them as best he could. "I'm going to look, uhm, down there…" Gilbert said. "If that's okay with you…"

"Do whatever you want! Take it out of me! Make it stop!" Madeline was in pain and angry, so Gilbert pushed up her skirt and tried to figure out what to do. One thing was sure, he could see the baby's head.

"You're almost there, Madeline," he said. "I can see its head!"

Francine sat next to Gilbert to take a look as well while Mrs. Bug took Francine's place, next to Madeline. "Breathe, Maddy," Francine said in French. "Next time you have a contraction, you push. Hard, okay?"

Madeline nodded and Gilbert took a clean towel that he put on his lap. He didn't know how many pushes it would take for the baby to come out, but he would be ready when it did.

It took three more contractions and pushes, but the baby slipped out without too much incident – thank God it was small. Gilbert had never seen that much blood coming out of one small person at once, but he didn't mind it – as long as it was not his own. He wrapped the baby in the clean towel and took the knife to cut the umbilical cord. A satisfying snap sounded in the room, followed by a baby's shrill cry.

Madeline was still breathing hard, covered in sweat, but calmer, now. "Can I see it?"

Gilbert held the baby in his arms, and a wide smile spread on his face, without even him realizing. "It's a boy, Madeline," he said, putting the baby gently in her arms. He watched as Maddy's face brightened up.

"Oh, _Merci mon Dieu_," she said. "I didn't want it to be a girl. At least he'll be able to do something with his life." She paused and looked at Mrs. Bug and Gilbert. "Right?"

Gilbert looked at the cook and something passed between them. Gilbert wasn't quite sure yet, or how, or why, but he knew this was the first day of the rest of his life.

"I'm going to call him _Alexandre_," Madeline whispered, placing a soft kiss on the baby boy's head.

The three people in the room smiled and a sudden feeling of peace filled the room. It was the middle of the afternoon, but autumn sunrays were spilling into the room even through the dirty window, and small specks of dust lingered mid-air. Gilbert didn't want this moment to end.

But Francine had her head on her shoulders and ushered Gilbert aside. "She still needs to deliver the placenta," she whispered. "If she doesn't, she might die."

"Oh." Gilbert had no idea that was even a thing. "And how do we do that?"

"I think you have to–"

"Midwife, coming through!" someone was calling from outside the door. Francine quickly opened the door to let in a tiny woman who couldn't be much larger than Madeline herself and she smiled when she saw the baby was already in the young mother's arms. She looked around the room. "Who delivered this baby?"

"Gilbert did," Francine said quickly.

"Nicely done, _Monsieur_ Gilbert." The midwife sat on the bed where Gilbert had been just moments before and started touching the girl's stomach. "Yes, the placenta is still there," she mumbled. From that moment on, she took hold of the situation, using Gilbert as her assistant and thanking Mrs. Bug and Francine for their help.

An hour later, Madeline was clean, the placenta was gone, the baby tucked in her arms, and Gilbert and the others were exhausted from the experience. The midwife left shortly after, and Gilbert, Mrs. Bug, and Francine met with _Madame_ Elise in the small dining room. She wasn't happy. At all. Her girls were never pregnant, for crying out loud!

Mrs. Bug and Gilbert quickly left for the kitchen to escape the Matron's ire and angry speech to the girls.

"Well, _Monsieur_ Gilbert," Mrs. Bug said after a moment of silence in the kitchen. "I think you know exactly what you want to do now, don't you?"

Gilbert looked up at the cook, confused. "Have a baby?"

"_Mais non, bêta_!" Mrs. Bug burst out laughing. "Go to medical school, _bien sûr_!" she chuckled and then continued on her evening meal. "You took responsibility and didn't hesitate. You weren't scared and you delivered a baby!"

"Oh, I was terrified," Gilbert mumbled. "But maybe you're right." He stood so fast that he pushed the bench on the ground. "I have to go, I'm sorry!" Again, he dashed out of the kitchen and up the several floors to his room where he found a new sheet of paper.

"_Dear Anne_,"

he wrote in his best cursive, though his hand was shaking a little.

"_You have no idea what just happened today. But first, let me tell you…_"

* * *

_**Hello all!**_

_**thank you for reading and for stopping by! I'd be really interested to read your thoughts on this chapter! ;) **_

_**Next time, Anne's pov in Avonlea, with a new letter...**_

_**see you soon!**_

* * *

**here's the translation of the french texts ;)**

Monsieur = Mister

Maison de Plaisir = Pleasure House, Brothel

Non = no

Bon Dieu = Good Lord

À l'aide! = Help!

Mesdemoiselles = Ladies

Maman = mommy

Merci mon Dieu = Thank God

Mais non, bêta! = Of course not, silly!

Bien sûr = of course


End file.
